A  REVOLUTIONARY 
PILGRIMAGE 


Written    &    Illustrated    by    ERNEST    PEIXOTTO 


H  m^    ATTACK 


ERH  HILL    frnu  17,17751 


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PUBLISHED     BY     CHARLES     SCRIBNER'S     SONS 


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A   REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 


Carpenters'  Hall,  Philadelphia 


REVOLUTIONARY 
PILGRIMAGE 

Being  an  Account  of  a  Series  of  Visits  to  Battlegrounds 

&  Other  Places  Made  Memorable  by  the 

War  of  the  Revolution 

Written   &  Illuftrated  by 

Ernest  Peixotto 


NEW  YORK 
Printed  &  Publifhed  by 

Charles  Scribners  Sons 
MDCCCCXVII 


er 


lO|^|i'J 


Copyright,  1917,  by  Charles  Scribncr's  Sons 
Published  October,  1917 


.    -       '     \ 


TO 
WILLIAM    BUNKER 

OF     THE     STURDY     STOCK 

THAT     DEFENDED     ITS     LIBERTIES     IN     THE 

WAR     OF     THE     REVOLUTION 

THIS    BOOK 
IS    AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBED 


382018 


PREFACE 

Some  years  ago  I  systematically  visited  the  scenes  and 
battle-fields  connected  with  the  Revolution,  undertaking 
a  sort  of  pilgrimage — a  series  of  journeys  that  covered  a 
period  of  almost  fourteen  months,  my  motive  being  to 
furnish  illustrations  for  Henry  Cabot  Lodge's  "Story  of 
the  Revolution." 

The  only  book  I  could  procure  to  guide  me  was  Los- 
sing's  classic  "Field-Book  of  the  Revolution,"  an  admi- 
rable work,  indeed,  but  so  bulky,  so  unwieldy,  and  so 
verbose  that  it  makes  rather  complicated  reading.  Be- 
sides, in  many  particulars  it  is  now  quite  out  of  date. 
Many  of  the  scenes  have  radically  changed  since  1850; 
many  of  the  landmarks  he  describes  have  disappeared; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  much  has  been  done  by  pa- 
triotic people  to  mark  and  make  interesting  the  Revolu- 
tionary battle-grounds  since  his  day. 

While  engaged  upon  this  pilgrimage  I  met  many  peo- 
ple— local  authorities,  men  of  importance,  who  had  made 
special  researches  into  the  history  of  their  own  particular 
region  and  were  kind  enough  to  give  me  pamphlets  and 
articles  that  they  had  written  or  data  that  they  had  col- 
lected— material  that  seemed  to  me  most  interesting. 
So,  as  there  appeared  to  be  no  recent  book  devoted  to 

vii 


PREFACE 

the  topographical  history  of  the  Revolution,  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  write  one,  but  one  busy  period  after  another 
has  hitherto  prevented  the  accomplishment  of  that  purpose. 
During  this  past  year,  however,  I  have  again  gone  over 
the  ground,  and  to  my  illustrations  that  originally  ap- 
peared in  "The  Story  of  the  Revolution"  I  have  added 
a  number  of  others  and  particularly  a  number  of  maps 
which  I  hope  may  be  of  real  assistance  to  the  reader  in 
following  the  narrative. 

Now  that  a  new  wave  of  patriotism  has  swept  over  the 
land  and  created  a  revival  of  the  "American  spirit,"  as 
it  is  called,  the  moment  seems  peculiarly  propitious  to 
awake  anew  the  story  of  the  deeds  of  our  ancestors — the 
men  who  risked  their  lives  and  staked  their  all  to  found 
our  nation  and  make  its  ideals  possible. 

I  wish  to  thank  all  those  who  helped  me  on  my  wan- 
derings— and  they  are  many — the  kind  friends  and  the 
chance  acquaintances  who  made  these  journeys  interest- 
ing and  pleasurable  and  aided  so  much  in  giving  me  an 
opportunity  to  see  things  and  to  unearth  documents  that 
I  should  otherwise  have  surely  overlooked. 

E.  P. 

New  York,  1917 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 
INTRODUCTORY     


PAGE 


AROUND  BOSTON 7 

I.     The  Beginning 9 

II.     Lexington  and  Concord 17 

III.     Bunker  Hill 39 

TICONDEROGA  AND  LAKE  CHAMPLAIN       .     .  49 

TO  THE  PLAINS  OF  SARATOGA 67 

I.      TlCONDEROGA   TO    FORT   EDWARD       ....  69 

II.     The  Green  Mountains 76 

III.  The  Mohawk  Valley 87 

IV.  Saratoga 101 

DOWN  THE  HUDSON       ....           .      .      .      .  115 

ABOUT  NEW  YORK 145 

IN  THE  JERSEYS 173 

I.     Trenton 175 

II.     Princeton        .                             191 

III.     Morristown 204 

ix 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ROUND  ABOUT  PHILADELPHIA 213 

I.     Chadd's  Ford  and  the  Brandywine      .      .  215 

II.     Germantown 228 

III.     Valley  Forge 236 

PHILADELPHIA 247 

CAMPAIGNS  IN  THE  CAROLINAS 271 

I.     Charleston 273 

II.     Through  South  Carolina 289 

III.     Guilford  Court  House 307 

THROUGH  VIRGINIA 315 

I.      WlLLIAMSRURG 317 

II.      Yorktown 329 

III.     Hampton  Roads 341 

MOUNT  VERNON 345 

WASHINGTON 361 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Carpenters'  Hall,  Philadelphia Frontispiece 

PAGE 

The  Old  North U 

Lexington  Green  at  the  Present  Time 19 

Buekman  Tavern 20 

The  Boulder  and  Harrington  House 21 

Major  Pitcairn's  Pistols 23 

The  Wright  Tavern,  Concord 25 

Barrett  House,  near  Concord 27 

Concord  Bridge 29 

Daniel  French's  Statue  of  the  "Minuteman" 32 

Flag  Carried  by  the  Bedford  Militia  at  Concord 31 

Grave  of  British  Soldiers  near  the  Bridge  at  Concord    ....  35 

Vicinity  of  the  Washington  Elm,  Cambridge 47 

The  Buins  of  Fort  Ticonderoga 55 

Buins  of  the  Officers'  Quarters  at  Ticonderoga 56 

Buins  of  Old  Fort  Frederick,  Crown  Point 60 

Map  Illustrating  Burgoyne's  Campaign 63 

Map  of  Ticonderoga 65 

Battle  Monument,  Bennington 80 

The  Catamount  Tavern,  now  completely  destroyed  .....  81 

The  Bavine  near  Oriskany 91 

Old  Stone  Church  at  German  Flats 95 

xi 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

General  Herkimer's  House  and  Grave 98 

Castle  Chureh,  near  Danube 99 

The  Home  of  General  Philip  Schuyler  at  Old  Saratoga       .      .      .  103 

Cellar  in  the  Marshall  House,  Schuylerville,  which  was  Used  as  a 

Hospital  by  the  British 108 

Old  Battle  Well,  Freeman's  Farms 113 

The  Hudson  River  at  West  Point 124 

Parts  of  the  Great  Chain  which  was  Stretched  across  the  Hudson  125 

Old  Fort  Putnam,  Showing  the  Magazines 131 

Stony  Point  and  the  Medal  Awarded  to  Anthony  Wayne   .     .      .  135 

Headquarters  at  Tappan  from  which  the  Order  for  Andre's  Execu- 
tion was  Issued 138 

'76  Stone  House  in  which  Andre  was  Imprisoned 140 

Stone  Marking  the  Place  of  Andre's  Execution 142 

Old  Houses  on  State  Street,  New  York  City  .      .      .      .      .      .      .148 

Tomb  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  Trinity  Churchyard 149 

The  Monument  to  Montgomery,  St.  Paul's  Church 151 

Washington's  Pew,  St.  Paul's  .Church 152 

Map  of  Operations  near  New  York  City 153 

View  from  Old  Fort  Putnam  (now  Fort  Greene),  Brooklyn      .      .  156 

Battle  Pass,  Prospect  Park,  Brooklyn 159 

The  Jumel  Mansion 165 

Site  of  Fort  Washington,  Looking  toward  Fort  Lee 171 

The  Point  at  Which  Washington  Crossed  the  Delaware  River      .  179 

Map  of  Operations  around  Trenton  and  Princeton 184 

Old  King  Street  (now  Warren  Street),  Trenton 188 

xii 


PAG] 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Old  Quaker  Meeting  House,  near  Princeton 192 

Stony  Brook  Bridge,  near  Princeton 193 

House  and  Room  in  Which  General  Mercer  Died 197 

Nassau  Hall,  Princeton 199 

Washington's  Headquarters,  Morristown 207 

Map  of  Vicinity  of  Philadelphia 217 

Washington's  Headquarters,  near  Chadd's  Ford 219 

Lafayette's  Headquarters,  near  Chadd's  Ford 221 


Birmingham  Meeting  House,  near  Chadd's  Ford 


99 


The  Chew  House,  Germantown 231 

The  Old  Potts  House  at  Valley  Forge 239 

View  from  Fort  Huntington,  Looking  toward  Fort  Washington     .  212 

Bell  Used  in  Camp  at  Valley  Forge 213 

The  Assembly  Room,  Carpenter's  Hall 251 

Independence  Hall,  Chestnut  Street  Front 255 

Room  in  Which  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  Signed        .  257 

View  of  Independence  Hall  from  the  Park  Side 258 

Stairway  in  Independence  Hall 259 

The  Betsy  Ross  House 261 

The  Pringle  House,  Charleston 275 

St.  Michael's  Church 276 

Statue  of  William  Pitt,  Charleston 277 

Charleston  Harbor 280 

Fort  Moultrie 282 

Map  of  Campaigns  in  the  Carolinas,  Showing  Cornwallis's  March 

from  Charleston  to  Virginia 291 

xiii 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Cornwallis's  Headquarters  at  Camden,  S.  C 295 

Monument  to  Daniel  Morgan,  Spartanburg 305 

The  Battle-field  at  Guilford  Court  House 311 

The  Home  of  the  President  of  William  and  Mary  College,  Williams- 
burg        .....  319 

Bruton  Church  and  the  George  Wythe  House      .      .      .      .      .      .321 

Hall  in  Carter's  Grove 323 

British  Intrenchment  at  Yorktown,   and  Map   Showing  the  Posi- 
tion of  the  French  and  American  Troops 330 

York   River,    Seen   from   the    Inner    British   Works    and    Looking 

toward  Gloucester  Point 333 

The  Moore  House 335 

Principal  Street  in  Yorktown,  Showing  Monument  Commemorat- 
ing the  Surrender 336 

Governor  Nelson's  Home 337 

Washington's  Home  at  Mount  Vernon 349 

Room  in  Which  Washington  Died 357 

Tomb  of  Major  L'Enfant  at  Arlington 367 


XIV 


INTRODUCTORY 


INTRODUCTORY 

I  PROPOSE,  on  this  Revolutionary  Pilgrimage,  to 
take  the  reader,  step  by  step,  to  all  the  important 
localities  connected  with  our  War  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. We  shall  start  at  Lexington  and  Concord,  and 
finish  at  Yorktown.  En  route,  we  shall  visit  battle-fields 
and  historic  sites,  and  see  them  as  they  appear  to  us  to- 
day. We  shall  also  note  what  has  been  done  to  com- 
memorate the  events  that  took  place  upon  them  and 
perpetuate  their  memories.  We  shall  see  traces  of  old 
redoubts;  the  ruined  walls  of  Ticonderoga;  the  streets  of 
Trenton;  the  spot  where  Washington  crossed  the  Dela- 
ware; the  buildings  and  churches  wherein  historic  events 
were  enacted — the  places  associated  with  Washington, 
Stark,  Greene,  Marion,  Lafayette,  and  the  other  heroes 
of  the  Revolution. 

I  propose  also  to  take  with  us,  as  guides,  eye-witnesses 
of  the  events  they  describe — those  who  have  left  us  the 
best  records  of  what  they  themselves  saw — authors  long 
since  silent,  contemporaries,  sometimes  illiterate,  of  the 
events  they  write  about,  and,  in  some  instances,  the  chief 
actors  in  them;  so  that  we  shall  read  upon  the  spot,  for 
example,  Paul  Revere's  own  account  of  his  "Midnight 
Ride,"   Ethan  Allen's   own  narrative   of  the   taking  of 


INTRODUCTORY 

Tieonderoga;  a  Princeton  student's  account  of  the  events 
that  took  place  about  his  college;  a  Quaker's  graphic 
recital  of  what  he  saw  of  the  battle  of  the  Brandy  wine; 
Major  Andre's  own  description  of  the  "Mischianza,"  and 
Cornwallis's  personal  despatches  of  the  siege  of  York- 
town. 

Thus  I  hope  to  make  my  story  vivid  and  living.  For 
the  clarity  of  my  text,  I  shall  omit  some  of  the  less  im- 
portant campaigns  and  treat  the  main  episodes  as  nearly 
in  chronological  order  as  my  journey  will  permit.  For, 
primarily,  I  shall  tell  my  story  by  geographical  sections, 
starting  in  New  England  and  ending  in  the  South. 

Professor  Albert  Bushnell  Hart  wrote,  in  the  "Ameri- 
can Historical  Review,"  more  than  a  decade  ago,  that 
"too  little  attention  has  been  paid  to  the  geographical 
and  topographical  side  of  American  history,  and  a  prime 
duty  of  Americans  is  the  preservation  and  marking  of 
our  historical  sites." 

I  heartily  agree  with  this  point  of  view.  My  chief 
hope  in  writing  this  book  is  that,  by  stimulating  interest 
in  Revolutionary  landmarks,  it  may  indirectly  contribute 
to  their  worthy  and  lasting  preservation. 

Through  the  admirable  work  of  local  chapters  of  the 
Sons  and  Daughters  of  the  Revolution  and  of  the  Order 
of  the  Cincinnati,  as  well  as  of  such  active  associations 
as  the  Society  for  the  Preservation  of  Virginia  Antiquities, 
many  historic  houses  have  been  rescued  from  oblivion 
or  destruction,  appropriately  "restored,"  and  marked 
with  tablets,  the  best  form  of  inscription  for  identifica- 

4 


INTRODUCTORY 

tion.  These  patriotic  societies  have  also  placed  upon 
many  of  the  battle-fields  of  the  Revolution  unobtrusive 
"  markers,"  showing  positions  of  troops  and  sites  of  in- 
terest.    Rut  much  more  can  be  done. 

Many  of  us  know  the  historic  spots  round  about  our 
own  particular  locality.  The  New  Englander,  for  in- 
stance, knows  Rennington  and  Lexington;  the  New 
Yorker,  Oriskany  and  Fort  Edward,  but  could  many 
of  them  tell  me,  I  wonder,  in  what  State  the  battles  of 
the  Cowpens  and  King's  Mountain  were  fought — both 
turning-points  in  the  Revolution?  And  do  most  of  us 
realize  that  Valley  Forge  and  the  field  of  Guilford  Court 
House  are  to-day  public  parks,  set  out  with  memorial 
arches  and  monuments  ? 

The  custom  of  visiting  battle-fields  is  very  prevalent  in 
Europe.  Monuments  and  historic  tablets  are  national 
methods  of  education,  aiding  to  visualize  the  events  they 
commemorate  and  serving  to  impress  them  upon  the 
public  mind.  From  them  and  their  stories,  people  inspire 
themselves  with  patriotism  and  inculcate  it  in  their  chil- 
dren. In  America  such  is  far  less  the  case.  The  Civil 
War  veterans  make  pilgrimages  to  the  scenes  of  their 
struggles,  it  is  true,  but  otherwise  few  of  us  look  back- 
ward. Our  eyes  are  riveted  upon  the  future,  forget- 
ting that  we  may  learn  many  important  lessons  from  the 
teachings  of  the  past. 

Let  us,  then,  in  these  momentous  days,  read  again  the 
story  of  our  nation's  birth;  of  the  sacrifices  and  abnega- 
tion of  our  forefathers  before   our   country  became  so 


INTRODUCTORY 

rich.  Let  us  read  again  the  story  of  our  Revolution,  and 
inspire  ourselves  anew  with  the  fine  old  ideals  of  the 
"Spirit  of  76." 

There  is  much  of  interest  to  be  seen  on  our  Revolu- 
tionary Pilgrimage — surprisingly  much,  as  I  think  I  shall 
be  able  to  prove,  and  in  these  days  of  automobiles  it  is 
an  easy  matter  to  visit  these  historic  spots.  When  I 
first  went  over  the  ground,  some  years  ago,  it  was 
quite  a  different  matter,  for  many  of  the  places  were 
remote  from  railways,  and  it  took  hours  of  driving  to 
reach  them.  Recause  of  motors  also,  the  hotels  have 
been  much  improved  since  then,  many  of  the  old  road- 
houses  having  been  resurrected  and  converted  into  pros- 
perous hostelries,  well  equipped  for  comfort  and  good 
cheer. 

I  have  personally  visited  all  the  localities  described  in 
this  book — first,  some  years  ago,  as  I  state  in  my  preface, 
and  again,  recently,  to  refresh  my  memory  and  ascertain 
what  further  has  been  done  to  mark  the  Revolutionary 
sites.  Roth  tours  were  singularly  interesting,  and  I  wish 
my  reader  the  same  pleasure  that  I  had,  if  he  should  elect 
to  undertake  a  similar  journey. 


AROUND   BOSTON 


AROUND  BOSTON 


THE   BEGINNING 

OUR  pilgrimage  will  naturally  begin  in  Boston, 
for  in  Boston  and  its  vicinity  the  first  organized 
resistance  to  British  oppression  was  made;  while 
the  old  city  still  conserves  more  mementoes  of  the  days 
that  preceded  the  actual  outbreak  of  hostilities  than  any 
other  in  our  country. 

The  lion  and  the  unicorn  on  the  old  State  House  gable 
had  looked  down  upon  the  Boston  massacre,  when,  on 
a  clear  March  night  in  1770,  the  new-fallen  snow  was 
tinged  with  the  blood  of  unarmed  citizens;  near  the 
corner  of  Washington  and  Essex  Streets  once  stood  the 
Liberty  Tree,  in  whose  shade  the  "Sons  of  Liberty" 
used  to  meet  and  discuss  their  grievances.  From  the 
door  of  the  Old  South  Meeting  House — still  one  of  the 
city's  venerated  landmarks — a  crowd  of  men,  disguised  as 
savages,  set  out  for  Griffin's  wharf,  where  they  boarded 
the  Dartsmouth,  the  Eleanor,  and  Beaver  and  dumped 
their  cargoes  of  tea  into  the  harbor. 

Through  a  window  above  the  pulpit  of  this  same 
meeting-house,  Doctor  Warren  was  introduced  on  the 
fifth  anniversary  of  the  Boston  massacre,  that  is,  on  the 
5th  of  March,   1775,  and  its  walls  echoed  the  ringing 

9 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

sentences,    bold    and   prophetic,    of  his   oration   to   the 
townspeople : 

"Our  streets  are  again  filled  with  armed  men;  our 
harbor  is  crowded  with  ships  of  war,  but  these  cannot 
intimidate  us;  our  liberty  must  be  preserved,  it  is  dearer 
than  life.  .  .  .  Our  country  is  in  danger;  our  enemies 
are  numerous  and  powerful,  but  we  have  many  friends 
and,  determining  to  be  free,  heaven  and  earth  will  aid 
the  resolution.  You  are  to  decide  the  important  ques- 
tion, on  which  rests  the  happiness  and  liberty  of  millions 
yet  unborn.     Act  worthy  of  yourselves." 

Thus  events  were  shaping  to  a  crisis,  and  the  town 
was  a  centre  of  patriotic  ferment.  John  Hancock  and 
Samuel  Adams  were  busy.  Paul  Revere  and  his  friends 
were  holding  their  meetings  at  the  Green  Dragon  Tavern, 
and  carefully  watching  the  movements  of  the  Rritish 
troops. 

Near  where  this  tavern  once  stood,  in  the  North  End, 
— once  Boston's  "Little  Britain,"  now  its  "Little  Italy," 
— fronting  the  small  triangular  North  Square,  still  stands 
a  humble  dwelling.  When  Paul  Revere  bought  it,  in  1770, 
it  was  nearly  a  hundred  years  old,  and  it  still  looks  almost 
as  it  did  when  first  built.  A  patriotic  group,  the  Paul 
Revere  Memorial  Association,  has  cleared  away  excres- 
cences, replaced  the  old  diamond-shaped,  leaded  window- 
panes,  and  the  square,  fat  chimney,  and  closed  the  shops 
that  once  disfigured  its  front,  so  that  now  the  house  has 
again  assumed  the  appearance  it  had  when  Paul  Revere 
occupied  it  in  1775.     His  own  flintlock  hangs  above  the 

10 


AROUND    BOSTON 


living-room  mantel;  his  toddy-warmer  is  on  the  kitchen 
shelf;  and  prints  from  his  copper-plates  and  his  adver- 
tisements in  the  "broadsides" — the  single-sheet  news- 
papers of  the  day — are  displayed  in  the  rooms  up-stairs. 
From  this  very  house,  as  we  see  it  to-day,  he  set  forth 
on  his  famous  "midnight  ride." 

But  a  few  minutes'  walk  away,  over  in  Salem  Street, 
Christ  Church,  now  known  as  the  Old  North,  rears  its 
shapely  spire.  So  conspicuously  did  this  once  tower  above 
the  houses  on  Copp's  Hill  that 
by  it  mariners  used  to  shape 
their  course  up  the  bay. 

If  you  are  agile  enough  you 
still  may  climb  this  steeple.    A 
flight  of  wooden  stairs  leads 
first  to  the  bell-ringer's  cham- 
ber, then  on  to  the  bell-loft 
itself,  where  hang  eight  bells, 
whose  inscriptions,  cast  in  the 
bronze,  tell  their  remarkable 
history.     On  number  one  you 
read:    "This  peal  of  bells  is 
the  gift  of  generous  persons  to 
Christ  Church,  Boston, 
New    England,    Anno 
1744";    on    number 
three:  "We  are  the  first 
ring  of  bells   cast   for 
the  British  Empire  in  THE  'OLD^ORT ti 


The    Signal    Lanterns   of 

PAUL  REVERE 

difplayed  in  the  ftceple  of  this  church 

April  18  1775 

warned  the  country  of  the  march 

ci  the  Britilh   troops  to 

Lexington  md  concord. 

i 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

North  America";  and  on  number  eight:  "Abel  Rudhall 
of  Gloucester  cast  us  all.  Anno  1744."  Their  joyful  voices 
sounded  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  and  proclaimed 
Cornwallis's  surrender  and,  in  between,  many  another 
event  of  those  stirring  Revolutionary  days. 

From  the  loft  in  which  they  hang  I  mounted  again, 
by  a  succession  of  hazardous  ladders,  to  a  gallery  above 
them,  and  thence  to  the  lantern  that  forms  the  crown- 
ing feature  of  the  steeple,  turning  a  round-headed  window 
to  each  point  of  the  compass.  The  sun  poured  merrily 
into  the  eastern  window,  through  which  I  could  see  far 
down  the  bay,  with  its  shipping  and  necks  of  land. 
From  the  south  window  I  could  discern  the  sky-scrapers 
and  big  office-buildings  of  the  modern  city,  and  the  gilded 
dome  of  the  State  House  shining  conspicuously  on  the 
top  of  Reacon  Hill.  The  west  window  revealed,  above 
the  tree-tops  of  Copp's  Hill  burying-ground,  the  Charles 
River,  with  its  terminals  and  dockyards,  and  Cambridge 
spreading  out  beyond;  while,  to  the  north,  the  Runker 
Hill  monument  pointed  like  a  giant  finger  upward  above 
the  red  houses  of  Charlestown. 

From  my  conspicuous  point  of  vantage  I  realized  so 
well  how  far  the  beacons,  placed  within  this  lantern, 
could  cast  their  fitful  beams — how  plainly  they  could  be 
seen  from  all  the  countryside.  And  this  was  Paul  Re- 
vere's  thought  when  he  agreed  with  Colonel  Conant,  in 
Cambridge,  to  place  his  signal  lanterns  in  the  Old  North 
steeple. 

I  shall  now  let  Paul  Revere  himself  tell  the  story  of 


AROUND    BOSTON 

these  lanterns,  and  of  his  famous  ride  on  the  night  of  the 
18th  of  April,  1775.* 

"In  the  fall  of  1774  and  winter  of  1775,  I  was  one  of 
upwards  thirty,  chiefly  mechanics,  who  formed  ourselves 
into  a  committee  for  the  purpose  of  watching  the  move- 
ments of  the  British  soldiers  and  gaining  every  intelli- 
gence of  the  movements  of  the  tories.  We  held  our  meet- 
ings at  the  Green  Dragon  Tavern.  We  were  so  careful 
that  our  meetings  should  be  kept  secret,  that  every  time 
we  met,  every  person  swore  upon  the  bible  that  they  would 
not  discover  any  of  our  transactions  but  to  Messrs. 
Hancock,  Adams,  Doctors  Warren,  Church,  and  one  or 
two  more.  .  .  . 

"The  Saturday  night  preceding  the  19th  of  April 
about  12  o'clock  at  night,  the  boats  belonging  to  the  trans- 
ports were  all  launched,  and  carried  under  the  sterns  of 
the  men-of-war.  ...  On  Tuesday  evening,  the  18th. 
it  was  observed  that  a  number  of  soldiers  were  marching 
towards  the  bottom  of  the  Common.  About  10  o'clock. 
Dr.  Warren  sent  in  great  haste  for  me  and  begged  that  I 
would  immediately  set  off  for  Lexington,  where  Messrs. 
Hancock  and  Adams  were,  and  acquaint  them  with  the 
movement  and  that  it  was  thought  they  were  the 
objects.  .  .  . 

"The  Sunday  before,  by  desire  of  Dr.  Warren,  I  had 
been  to  Lexington  to  Messrs.  Hancock  and  Adams  who 
were  at  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clark's.  I  returned  at  night 
through  Charlestown;  there  I  agreed  with  a  Colonel 
Conant,  and  some  other  gentlemen,  that,  if  the  British 
went  out  by  water,  we  would  shew  two  lanthorns  in  the 
north  church  steeple;    and  if  by  land,  one,  as  a  signal; 

*  A  letter  from  Colonel  Paul  Revere  to  the  corresponding  secretary,  in  the 
"Collections  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,"  for  the  year  1798. 

13 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

for  we  were  apprehensive  it  would  be  difficult  to  cross 
the  Charles  River,  or  get  over  Roston  Neck.  I  left 
Dr.  Warren,  called  upon  a  friend,*  and  desired  him  to 
make  the  signals.  I  then  went  home,  took  my  boots 
and  surtout,  went  to  the  north  part  of  the  town  where 
I  had  kept  a  boat;  two  friends  rowed  me  across  Charles 
River,  a  little  to  the  eastward  where  the  Somerset  man 
of  war  lay.  It  was  then  young  flood,  the  ship  was  wind- 
ing, and  the  moon  was  rising.  They  landed  me  on  the 
Charlestown  side.  When  I  got  into  town,  I  met  Colonel 
Conant  and  several  others;  they  said  they  had  seen  our 
signals.  I  told  them  what  was  acting  and  went  to  get 
me  a  horse;    I  got  a  horse  of  Deacon  Larkin.  .  .  . 

"I  set  off  upon  a  very  good  horse;  it  was  then  about 
eleven  o'clock,  and  very  pleasant.  After  I  had  passed 
Charlestown  Neck,  and  got  nearly  opposite  where  Mark 
was  hung  in  chains,  I  saw  two  men  on  horseback,  under 
a  tree.  When  I  got  near  them,  I  discovered  they  were 
Rritish  officers.  One  tried  to  get  ahead  of  me,  and  the 
other  to  take  me.  I  turned  my  horse  quick  and  galloped 
toward  Charlestown  Neck,  and  then  pushed  for  Medford 
road.  .  .  .  The  one  who  chased  me,  endeavoring  to  cut 
me  off,  got  into  a  clay  pond,  near  where  the  new  tavern 
is  now  built.  I  got  clear  of  him,  and  went  through  Med- 
ford, over  the  bridge,  and  up  to  Menotomy.  In  Medford, 
I  awaked  the  Captain  of  the  minute  men;  and  after  that 
I  alarmed  almost  every  house  till  I  got  to  Lexington.  I 
found  Messrs.  Hancock  and  Adams  at  the  rev.  Mr. 
Clark's.  .  .  ." 

Now,  before  he  proceeds,  let  us  follow  him  thus  far 
upon  his  road.     According  to  his  narrative,  he   crossed 

*  His  old  friend,  Captain  John  Pulling,  a  merchant  of  Boston   and   a 
vestryman  of  Christ  Church. 

14 


AROUND    BOSTON 

the  Charles  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  present-day 
Charlestown  Bridge,  passed  via  the  Neck  into  Cambridge, 
and  started  out  to  Lexington  by  the  main  road,  now  called 
Massachusetts  Avenue.  But,  meeting  the  officers,  he 
turned  back,  took  the  Medford  Road  through  Somerville, 
and  across  the  Mystic  lowlands. 

This  route  to-day  forms  part  of  the  city's  suburbs, 
and  is  built  up  until  you  attain  the  Mystic  River,  where 
first  you  reach  open  country.  Following  it  recently,  I 
found  the  Mystic  lowlands  newly  parked  and  set  out 
with  lawns  and  avenues  of  trees.  Soon  we  came  into  the 
twisting  streets  of  old  Medford,  with  its  comfortable 
houses  shaded  by  towering  elms — one  of  those  pleasant 
towns  that  impart  such  charm  to  the  environs  of  Boston, 
its  newer  homes  interspersed  with  just  enough  old  dwell- 
ings to  give  variety  and  create  the  special  atmosphere 
that  characterizes  the  older  settlements  of  Massachusetts. 

At  Medford  Common  we  turned  sharp  to  the  left  and 
made  for  West  Medford,  where  a  sign-board,  nailed  to  a 
tree,  told  us  we  were  really  upon  the  right  trail  and  fol- 
lowing "Paul  Revere's  Ride."  We  crossed  the  Mystic 
"over  the  bridge,"  as  he  says,  with  the  Mystic  Lakes 
lying  off  to  the  right,  and  then  came  "up  to  Menotomy," 
now  Arlington,  its  old  name,  however,  perpetuated  upon 
the  sign  of  one  of  the  local  banks. 

Here  at  Arlington  we  met  the  main  road  from  Boston, 
to  which  I  have  alluded — Massachusetts  Avenue — the 
road  that  Paul  Revere  started  to  take  when  he  fell  in 
with  the  officers,  and  the  one  that  the  British  troops  did 

15 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

take  later  in  the  night,  when  they  set  out  for  Lexington 
in  the  darkness,  marching  in  secrecy  and  silence,  to  ar- 
rest "Messrs.  Hancock  and  Adams  and  then,  at  Con- 
cord, to  seize  the  military  stores  known  to  be  collected 
there." 


16 


II 

LEXINGTON  AND   CONCORD 

MASSACHUSETTS  AVENUE  leads  directly 
through  Arlington  and  East  Lexington  to 
Lexington  Green.  As  you  turn  its  last  elbow 
and  pass  the  historic  Munroe  Tavern  *  you  perceive 
straight  before  you,  Henry  Kitson's  bronze  statue  of  the 
Minuteman,  gun  in  hand,  peering  down  the  road  from 
the  top  of  a  great  boulder,  watching  expectantly  for  the 
British  Regulars. 

And  thus  did  the  minutemen,  warned  by  Paul  Revere 
and  by  William  Dawes,  another  messenger  who  arrived 
a  little  later,  stand  in  the  gray  dawn  of  the  19th  of  April, 
expectant,  calm,  and  firm,  grimly  awaiting  the  arrival 
of  the  redcoats. 

Revere,  after  warning  the  people  of  Lexington,  had  en- 
deavored to  reach  Concord  and  spread  the  alarm  there, 
but  half-way  he  was  intercepted  by  a  British  patrol  and 
taken  back  to  Lexington  where  the  officers  relieved  him 
of  his  horse  and  left  him. 

He  thus  resumes  his  narrative  in  a  sworn  statement 
that  I  have  before  me  in  a  facsimile  of  his  original  hand- 
writing : 

"I  then  went  to  the  house  where  I  left  Messrs.  Adams 
and  Hancock,  and  told  them  what  had  happened;    their 

*  See  page  37. 
17 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

friends  advised  them  to  go  out  of  the  way;  I  went  with 
them  about  two  miles  a  cross  road;  after  resting  myself, 
I  sett  off  with  another  man  to  go  to  the  Tavern  to  en- 
quire the  News;  when  we  got  there,  we  were  told  the 
troops  were  within  two  miles.  We  went  into  the  Tavern 
to  git  the  Trunk  of  papers  belonging  to  Col.  Hancock; 
before  we  left  the  house,  I  saw  the  Ministerial  Troops 
from  the  Chamber  window.  We  made  haste  and  had 
to  pass  thro'  our  Militia,  who  were  on  a  green  behind  the 
meeting  house,  to  the  number  as  I  supposed  of  about 
50  or  60.  I  went  thro'  them;  as  I  passed,  I  heard  the 
commanding  officer  speake  to  his  men  to  this  purpose, 
'Lett  the  troops  pass  by,  and  don't  molest  them,  with- 
out they  begin  first.' 

"I  had  to  go  a  cross  road,  but  had  not  got  half  gun 
shot  off,  when  the  Ministerial  troops  appeared  on  right 
behind  the  Meeting  House;  they  made  a  short  halt, 
when  one  gun  was  fired;  I  heard  the  report,  turned  my 
head,  and  saw  the  smoake  in  front  of  the  Troops,  they 
immediately  gave  a  great  shout,  ran  a  few  paces,  and  then 
the  whole  fired." 

This,  his  account,  agrees  perfectly  with  recorded  his- 
tory. The  tavern  to  which  he  alludes,  still  fronts  upon 
the  Green,  and  is  known  as  the  Buckman  Tavern.  In  it 
the  militia  assembled  that  morning,  and  from  it  inarched 
forth  to  take  their  place  upon  the  Common.  Their 
line  is  marked  by  a  rough  boulder  that  bears  upon  its 
face  Captain  Parker's  words,  substantially  as  Revere 
records  them:  "Stand  your  ground;  don't  fire  until  fired 
upon,  but  if  they  mean  to  have  a  war  let  it  begin  here." 

If  you  place  yourself  beside  this  boulder,  it  will  take 

18 


AROUND    BOSTON 

but  little  imagination  to  reconstruct  the  scene.  The  big, 
barn-like  meeting-house  stood  near  the  statue  of  the 
Minuteman,  where  a  tablet  marks  its  site.  The  old 
wooden  belfry,  so  clearly  shown  in  Doolittle's  primitive 
engraving  of  the  scene,  stood  near  it.     "The  Ministerial 


Lexington  Green  at  the  Present  Time 

troops  appeared  on  right  behind  the  Meeting  House" 
and  formed  their  line  with  Major  Pitcairn  at  their  head. 
The  first  shot  was  fired  from  his  pistol.  Jonathan  Har- 
rington, one  of  the  patriots  who  fell  at  the  first  volley, 
dragged  himself  to  his  house,  that  still  stands  behind  you, 
and  died  at  his  wife's  feet. 

Beyond,  a  little  way  up  the  Woburn  Road,  stands  the 
home  of  the  Reverend  Jonas  Clark,  in  which  Hancock 
and  Adams  were  sleeping  when  awakened  by  Paul  Re- 
vere.    This  Clark  house  is  the  most  interesting  of  all 

19 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 


,(*■->. 


\    «;/ 


'#§ 


\]  n^ 


Bud- man  Tavern 


the  present-day  structures  of  Lexington,  and  we  grate- 
fully owe  its  preservation  from  destruction  to  the  efforts 
of  the  Lexington  Historical  Society.  Its  oldest  portion, 
the  one-story  ell,  was  built  in  1698  by  the  Reverend  John 
Hancock,  who  reared  his  five  children  in  it.  His  second 
son,  grown  a  wealthy  Roston  merchant,  built  on  the 
main  portion  of  the  house  for  his  father,  who  died  in  it 

20 


AROUND    BOSTON 

in  1752.  Three  years  later  the  Reverend  Jonas  Clark, 
who  had  married  one  of  Hancock's  granddaughters, 
moved  in  to  become  the  village  pastor. 

Edward  Everett,  who  knew  Clark,  recalls  his  sym- 
pathetic voice,  "to  which  all  listened  with  reverence 
and  delight,"  and  describes  him  as  a  clergyman  who 
"enlightened  and  animated  the  popular  mind,"  a  learned 
theologian,  a  correct  and  careful  writer.  As  we  have 
just  seen,  he  was  related  by  marriage  to  the  John  Han- 
cock of  the  Revolutionary  period,  who  had  spent  many 
of  his  boyhood  days  in  this  old  home  of  his  grand- 
father. 

On  the  18th  of  April,  1775,  there  was  another  guest 
in  the  house  besides  the  two  distinguished  patriots  who 
occupied  the  large  room  on  the  ground  floor.  This  was 
Dorothy  Quincy,  John  Hancock's  betrothed,  whom  he 


CCNTFIKE  UNLESS   FiRED  UPON 

BUT  if  THEY    WEAN  To  H.Mt  A     WAR 

1ET    IT     KEGI.)     HE".S 


JS4+, 


mk$£^ 


:C?«»aftj 


The  Boulder  and  Harrington  House 


21 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

married  in  the  following  August — the  one  romantic  note 
in  all  this  grim  Lexington  tragedy. 

Paul  Revere  tells  us  that  Hancock  and  Adams  left 
Mr.  Clark's  house  after  his  second  warning.  Rut  the 
pastor  remained,  and  he  has  written  for  posterity  a  clear 
account  of  what  he  himself  saw  from  his  own  house,  for 
at  that  time  there  was  nothing  but  open  country  be- 
tween the  parsonage  and  the  village  green.  I  quote  the 
following  extracts  from  his  little-known  narrative: 

"At  half  an  hour  after  four  (in  the  morning)  alarm 
guns  were  fired  and  the  drums  beat  to  arms;  the  militia 
were  collecting  together.  About  50  or  60,  or  possibly 
more,  were  on  the  parade,  others  coming  toward  it.  In 
the  mean  time  the  troops,  having  stolen  a  march  upon 
us,  and,  to  prevent  any  intelligence  of  their  approach, 
having  seized  and  held  prisoners  several  persons  whom 
they  met  unarmed,  seemed  to  come  determined  for  mur- 
der and  bloodshed;  and  that  whether  provoked  to  it  or 
not !  When  within  half  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  meet- 
ing house,  they  halted  and  the  command  was  given  to 
prime  and  load;  which  being  done,  they  marched  on  till 
they  came  up  to  the  east  end  of  said  meeting  house,  in 
sight  of  our  militia,  (collecting  as  aforesaid)  who  were 
about  12  or  13  rods  distant.  .  .  .  Immediately  upon 
their  appearing  so  suddenly  and  so  nigh  Captain  Parker, 
who  commanded  the  militia,  ordered  the  men  to  disperse 
and  take  care  of  themselves;  and  not  to  fire. — Upon  this 
our  men  dispersed; — but  many  of  them  not  so  speedily 
as  they  might  have  done. 

"About  the  same  time,  three  officers  .  .  .  advanced 
to  the  front  of  the  body   and  .  .  .  one   of  them  cried 

22 


AROUND    BOSTON 

out  'Ye  villains,  ye  rebels,  disperse.  Damn  you  dis- 
perse '  or  words  to  that  effect.  .  .  .  The  second  of  these 
officers,  about  this  time,  fired  a  pistol  toward  the  militia 
as  they  were  dispersing  .  .  .  which  was  immediately 
followed  by  a  discharge  of  arms  from  said  troops,  suc- 
ceeded by  a  very  heavy  and  close  fire  upon  our  party,  dis- 
persing, so  long  as  any  of  them  were  within  reach.  Eight 
were  left  dead  upon  the  ground !  Ten  were  wounded. 
The  rest  of  the  com- 
pany, through  divine 
goodness,  were  (to  a 
miracle)  preserved  in 
this  murderous  ac- 
tion ! .  .  .  One  circum- 
stance   more;     before      Major  Pitcairn's  Pistols 

the    brigade    quitted 

Lexington,  to  give  a  further  specimen  of  the  spirit  and 
character  of  the  officers  and  men  of  this  body  of  troops. 
After  the  militia  company  were  dispersed  and  the  firing 
ceased,  the  troops  drew  up  and  formed  in  a  body  on  the 
common,  fired  a  volley  and  gave  three  huzzas  by  way  of 
triumph,  and  as  expression  of  the  joy  of  victory  and  glory 
of  conquest !  Of  this  transaction  I  was  a  witness,  having 
at  that  time  a  fair  view  of  their  motions,  and  being  at 
a  distance  of  not  more  than  70  or  80  rods  from  them." 

Treasured  in  the  Clark  house,  from  which  the  patriot- 
minister  watched  this  scene,  I  found  the  bell-clapper 
that  sounded  the  alarm  from  the  wooden  belfry,  and  the 
very  drum  that  William  Diamond  beat  to  assemble  the 
militia  that  April  morning.  There,  too,  is  the  identical 
brace  of  pistols  that  belonged  to  Major  Pitcairn,  and  from 
which  he  fired  the  first  shot  of  the  war — weapons  that 

23 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

he  lost  later  in  the  day,  together  with  his  horse  and  ac- 
coutrements, when  he  was  wounded  in  a  skirmish  at 
Fisk's  Hill.  The  pistols  were  sold  to  Nathan  Barrett, 
of  Concord,  who  in  turn  presented  them  to  General 
Israel  Putnam,  and  he  carried  them  throughout  the  war. 

Half  an  hour  after  giving  their  "three  huzzas,"  the 
British  troops  took  up  their  march  again  and  proceeded 
to  Concord,  six  miles  away,  with  the  purpose  of  seiz- 
ing the  military  stores  collected  there  in  the  Barrett 
house. 

Thither  we  shall  now  follow  them  by  the  same  road 
that  they  took — a  highway  that  winds  up  and  down 
through  a  rough  and  broken  country,  interspersed  with 
little  groves  of  pines  and  cedars.  Stone  walls  and  apple- 
orchards  border  the  road,  and  over  them  at  times,  on 
the  hill-crests,  you  see  out  to  far  distances  and  obtain 
views  of  rolling  fields  dotted  here  and  there  with  farm- 
houses. 

About  midway  to  Concord  we  noticed  a  tablet  record- 
ing the  fact  that  here  "ended  the  midnight  ride  of  Paul 
Revere,"  for  it  was  at  this  spot  that  he  was  stopped  by 
the  British  patrol.  Longfellow,  in  the  celebrated  poem 
that  has  made  of  Revere's  name  a  household  word,  takes 
him  farther  than  he  went: 

"It  was  two  by  the  village  clock, 
When  he  came  to  the  bridge  in  Concord  town," 

which  lines  are  not  borne  out  by  fact,  as  Paul  Revere 
never  reached  old  Concord. 

24 


AROUND    BOSTON 


We  did,  however,  and  as  the  hilly  road  from  Lexington 
finally  led  us  into  the  town  memories  other  than  those 
connected  with  the  Revolution  for  a  moment  crowded 
my  brain.  There,  to  the  right,  rose  the  gables  of  "The 
Wayside"  that  was  Hawthorne's  home;    then  we  passed 


The  JVright  Tavern,  Concord 

Orchard  House  and  the  School  of  Philosophy,  so  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  Alcotts,  and  opposite  the  calm 
white  house  set  in  pine-trees  where  Ralph  Waldo  Emer- 
son wrote  his  "Essays." 

But  as  soon  as  we  reached  Concord  Green  the  Revolu- 
tionary atmosphere  returned,  for  the  great  white  meet- 
ing-house, now  somewhat  modernized,  the  old  burying- 

25 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

ground  with  its  slate  headstones,  and,  most  of  all,  the 
Wright  Tavern,  all  vividly  recall  the  events  that  pre- 
ceded the  Concord  fight.  At  the  tavern  that  still  turns 
its  shingle  to  the  road  and  retains  much  of  its  old-time 
appearance,  Major  Pitcairn,  the  sinister  hero  of  the  day, 
stopped  for  his  glass  of  toddy  and  gave  vent  to  his  idle 
boasts. 

When  making  the  accompanying  drawings  I  spent  a 
fortnight  in  this  ancient  hostelry,  seduced  by  the  charm 
of  a  neat  room  "up-chamber,"  with  its  view,  through 
chintz  curtains  and  small  window-panes,  of  the  great 
white  meeting-house  opposite,  where  the  First  Provin- 
cial Congress  met.  Indeed,  so  charming  a  place  is 
Concord  that  I  recall  that  sojourn  with  the  greatest 
pleasure. 

To  reach  the  battle-ground,  you  follow  Monument 
Street  until  you  pass,  upon  your  right,  an  old  house  with 
a  bullet  still  embedded  in  its  wall.  Then  you  turn 
toward  the  river,  beside  the  Old  Manse,  hallowed  by  so 
many  memories,  "worthy  to  have  been  one  of  the  time- 
honored  parsonages  of  England,  in  which,  through  many 
generations,  a  succession  of  holy  occupants  pass  from 
youth  to  age  and  bequeath  each  an  inheritance  of  sanc- 
tity to  pervade  the  house  and  hover  over  it  as  with  an 
atmosphere,"  to  quote  Hawthorne's  own  description  of 
it.  Its  back  windows  overlook  the  Old  North  Bridge 
and  the  battle-field.  From  one  of  them — a  window 
in  the  study  upon  the  second  floor,  in  which  her 
grandson,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson;  later  wrote  his  "Na- 

26 


AROUND    BOSTON 


ture,"  and  in  which  Hawthorne  prepared  for  the  press 
his  "Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse" — Phoebe  Bliss  Emer- 
son, wife  of  the  parish  minister  and  grandmother  of 
Ralph  Waldo,  watched  the  battle  that  memorable  April 
morning. 

Her  direct  descendants  still  occupy  the  Manse,  and 
have  preserved  its  rare  and  subtle  atmosphere  intact,  for 
the  portraits  that  hang  in  the  hall,  the  antique  furniture, 
the  panelling  and  the  hand-printed  wall-papers  of  the 
old  rooms  still  compose  a  perfect  picture  of  the  life  of 
long  ago. 

Recently,  when  we  were  visiting  some  friends  who  live 
just  out  of  Concord,  these  people  were  among  the  guests 
at  dinner.  Later  in  the  evening,  I  read  to  them  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  the  Concord  fight,  a  document  that  I 
unearthed,  re- 
produced in  fac- 
simile, and  of 
which  they  had 
never  heard,  nor 
had  any  of  the 
other  Concord 
people  that  I 
met.  It  was  ^^^^^^ 
written  by  an 
Amos  Barrett, 
but  what  rela- 
tion, if  any,  he 
was    to    Colonel 


Barrett  House,  near  Concord 

27 


V'J 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

James  Barrett,    who  commanded  the  Concord  minute- 
men,  I  have  not  been  able  to  ascertain. 

His  is  the  most  graphic  eye-witness's  account  of  the 
battle  that  I  have  been  able  to  find.  He  prefaces  his 
story  by  telling  of  the  march  of  the  British  troops  through 
Cambridge  and  Lexington  toward  Concord,  and  then 
continues : 

"We  at  Concord  heard  that  they  were  coming.  The 
bell  rung  at  three  o'clock  for  alarm.  As  I  was  a  minute 
man,  I  was  soon  in  town  and  found  my  captain  and  the 
rest  of  my  company  at  the  post.  It  wasn't  long  before 
there  was  another  minute  company.  (One  company,  I 
believe,  of  minute  men  was  raised  in  almost  every  town, 
to  stand  at  a  minute's  warning.)  Before  sunrise  there 
were  I  believe  150  of  us  and  more  of  all  that  was  there. 
We  thought  we  would  go  and  meet  the  British.  We 
marched  down  towards  Lexington  about  a  mile  or  mile 
and  a  half  and  we  see  them  a-coming.  We  halted  and 
staid  till  they  got  within  about  100  rods,  then  ordered 
to  the  about  face  and  marched  before  them  with  our 
drums  and  fifes  going  and  also  the  British.  We  had  grand 
music.  We  marched  into  town  and  over  the  north  bridge 
a  little  more  than  half  a  mile  and  then  on  a  hill  not  far 
from  the  bridge,  where  we  could  see  and  hear  what  was 
a-going  on.  .  .  . 

"While  we  were  on  the  hill  by  the  bridge,  there  were 
80  or  90  British  came  to  the  bridge  and  there  made  a 
halt.  After  a  while  they  began  to  tear  the  planks  from 
the  bridge.  Major  Buttrick  said  if  we  were  all  his  mind, 
he  would  drive  them  away  from  the  bridge — they  should 
not  tear  that  up.  We  all  said  we  would  go.  We,  then, 
were  not  loaded.     We  were  all  ordered  to  load,  and  had 

28 


Concord  Bridge 


AROUND    BOSTON 

strict  orders  not  to  fire  till  they  fired  first,  then  to  fire  as 
fast  as  we  could.  We  then  marched  on.  Capt.  Davis' 
company  marched  first,  then  Capt.  Allen's  minute  com- 
pany, the  one  I  was  in,  next.  We  marched  2  deep.  It 
was  a  long  corsay  (causeway)  being  round  by  the  river. 

"Capt.  Davis  had  got  I  believe  within  15  rods  of  the 
British  when  they  fired  3  guns,  one  after  another.  I  see 
the  ball  strike  in  the  river  on  the  right  of  me.  As  soon 
as  they  fired  them,  they  fired  on  us.  The  balls  whistled 
well.  We  then  were  all  ordered  to  fire  that  could  fire 
and  not  kill  our  own  men.  It  is  strange  there  were  no 
more  killed  but  they  fired  too  high.  Capt.  Davis  was 
killed  and  Mr.  Osmore  (Hosmer)  and  a  number  wounded. 
We  soon  drove  them  from  the  bridge,  when  I  got  over, 
there  were  2  lay  dead  and  another  almost  dead.  We  did 
not  follow  them.  There  were  8  or  10  that  were  wounded 
and  a-running  and  hobbling  about,  looking  back  to  see 
if  we  were  after  them. 

"We  then  saw  the  whole  body  coining  out  of  town. 
We  were  then  ordered  to  lay  behind  a  wall  that  run  over 
a  hill  and  when  they  got  near  enough  Maj.  But  trick 
said  he  would  give  the  word  fire.  But  they  did  not  come 
so  near  as  he  expected  before  they  halted.  The  com- 
manding officer  ordered  the  whole  battalion  to  halt  and 
officers  to  the  front  march.  The  officers  then  marched 
to  the  front.  There  we  lay  behind  the  wall,  about  200 
of  us,  with  our  guns  cocked,  expecting  every  minute  to 
have  the  word,  fire.  Our  orders  were  if  we  fired,  to  fire 
2  or  3  times  and  then  retreat.  If  we  had  fired,  I  believe 
we  would  have  killed  almost  every  officer  there  was  in  the 
front;  but  we  had  no  orders  to  fire  and  they  wan't  again 
fired  (on),  they  staid  about  10  minutes  and  then  marched 
back  and  we  after  them.  After  a  while  we  found  them 
marching  back  toward  Boston.     We  were  soon  after  them. 

31 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 


"When  they  got  about  a  mile  and  a  half  to  a  road 
that  comes  from  Redford  and  Rildrica  (Rillerica)  they 

were  waylaid  and  a  great 
many  killed.  When  I  got 
there,  a  great  many  lay  dead 
and  the  road  was  bloody."  * 


This  account,  I  think,  gives 
a  clear  idea  of  the  successive 
phases  of  the  fight;  the  as- 
sembling of  the  various  com- 
panies on  Concord  Green; 
their  march  to  meet  the 
Rritish;  their  retirement  to 
the  hill  beyond  the  North 
Rridge;  their  assault  upon 
the  troops  who  attempted  to 
destroy  it;  the  arrival  of  re- 
inforcements for  the  Rritish, 
and  the  beginning  of  their 
retreat. 

The  battle-ground  is  still 
a  secluded  spot,  propitious 
for  meditation.  The  placid 
river,  well  named  Concord, 
flows  silently  by,  threading 
its  way  through  the  meadows. 


Daniel  French's  Statue  of 
the  " Minuteman" 


*  Captain  Amos  Barrett  was  afterward  at  Bunker  Hill  and  at  Burgoyne's 
surrender.  He  himself  says:  "I  was  in  the  whole  of  it  from  Concord  to 
Bunker  Hill."  I  have  corrected  some  of  his  errors  of  orthography,  but 
left  enough  to  give  color  to  the  picturesque  narrative. 

32 


AROUND    BOSTON 

As  I  sat  sketching,  I  could  perceive  no  sound  above  its 
murmur,  but  the  rustling  of  the  leaves,  the  chirping  of 
birds,  or  the  squeak  of  a  squirrel  cracking  nuts  in  the  trees 
above  my  head.  An  old-fashioned  monument,  by  the 
bridge-head,  marks  the  position  of  the  British  troops  and 

is  thus  inscribed: 

Here 

On  the  19th  of  April,  1775 

was  made  the  first  forcible  resistance  to 

BRITISH  AGGRESSION 

On  the  opposite  bank  stood  the  American 

Militia,  and  on  this  spot  the  first  of  the  enemy  fell 

in  the  WAR  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

which  gave  Independence  to  these  United  States. 

In  gratitude  to  God,  and  in  the  name  of  freedom 

This  Monument  is  erected 

A.D.  1836. 

But  a  few  steps  from  it  lie  the  three  British  soldiers  who 
fell  in  the  fight,  buried  within  an  enclosure  marked  off 
by  stone  posts,  connected  by  a  chain.  Since  I  made  my 
drawing  their  graves  have  been  designated  with  a  tablet. 
The  bridge  has  been  rebuilt  recently,  but  upon  the  same 
old  lines.  Beyond  it  stands  Daniel  French's  fine  bronze 
statue  of  the  "Minuteman"  alive,  alert,  with  one  hand 
upon  his  plough,  the  other  firmly  grasping  his  flint-lock 
as  he  hurries  off  to  assembly.  Behind  him  rises  the  gentle 
slope  of  Battle  Lawn,  as  it  is  called,  "the  hill  not  far  from 
the  bridge,"  to  which  Amos  Barrett  refers,  and  on  which 
he  took  up  his  position  with  the  minutemen. 

There  was,  as  far  as  is  known,  but  one  flag  that  waved 

33 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

over  the  "embattled  farmers"  that  April  morning.  I 
knew  of  its  existence  and  had  seen  it  before  and  made 
a  drawing  of  it.  But  I  wished  to  refresh  my  memory. 
So  one  morning  we  motored  over  to  Bedford,  only  a  few 
miles  from  Concord,  and  drew  up  be- 
fore an  old  house  railed  off  from  the 
road  by  prim  white  palings.  There  I 
found  the  gentleman  who  had  been  so 
kind  to  me  upon  my  former  visit.  He 
took  us  over  to  the  town  hall,  and  led 
us  down  into  the  basement.  Hanging 
^7    ri     .  . .        his  hat  upon  an  electric  bulb,  so  that 

blag  Carried  by  x 

the' Bedford  he  would  "not  forget  to  put  out  the 

Militia  at  ,  ,.    ,  .      ,,    ,  -. 

Concord  electric  Lights  again,     he  took  us  to  a 

great  safe  built  in  the  wall.     This  he 

opened  and  disclosed  an  inner  safe.  It,  in  turn,  con- 
\  tained  a  smaller  compartment,  especially  made  to 
receive  the  flag,  which  is  placed  between  two  plates  of 
glass  so  that  both  sides  can  be  seen.  It  is  a  piece  of 
handsome  crimson  damask,  upon  which  has  been  painted 
a  mailed  arm  and  hand  grasping  a  dagger,  surrounded 
by  a  ribbon  on  which  is  the  singularly  appropriate  de- 
vice:  Vince  aut  morire. 

While  we  were  looking  at  it  he  told  us  its  story.  It 
was  made  in  England,  and  sent  out  to  the  militia  of 
Middlesex  County  about  1670.  It  became  one  of  their 
accepted  standards,  and  as  such  was  used  by  the  Bedford 
company.  It  belonged  by  inheritance  to  the  Page  family, 
and  Nathaniel  Page  was  cornet  and  color-bearer  at  the 

34 


AROUND    BOSTON 

time  of  the  Concord  fight.  When  aroused  by  the  early 
morning  summons  of  the  19th  of  April,  he  seized  it  and 
hurried  off  to  join  his  company — the  Bedford  Company — 
which  was  assembling  at  the  Fitch  Tavern. 

Our  kind  host,  Mr.  Jenks  (whose  mother  was  a  Fitch), 
then  led  us  back  to  his  own  home  again — once  the  Fitch 
Tavern,  the  house  behind  the  white  palings,  to  which  I 
have  alluded — and  we  entered  the  very  room  in  which  the 
minutemen  assembled  that  April  morning.  In  its  corner 
still  stands  the  cupboard  from  which  drinks  were  served, 
and  here  Jonathan  Wilson,  the  company's  captain,  who 
was  killed  later  in  the  day,  uttered  his  well-known  words: 
"It's  a  cold  breakfast,  boys,  but  we'll  give  the  British 
a  hot  dinner;  we'll  have  every  dog  of  them  before  night." 


Grave  of  British  Soldiers  near  the  Bridge  at  Concord 

35 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

The  house  is  filled  with  souvenirs,  and  we  went  about 
with  our  friend  and  his  sister  and  saw  their  family  trea- 
sures: portraits  and  furniture,  books  and  mementos;  the 
frocks  and  slippers  that  once  set  off  the  charms  of  their 
great-grandmother;  the  fans  and  hair  combs  that  are 
now  carefully  laid  away  in  cabinets. 

\ou  will  remember  that  Captain  Amos  Barrett  con- 
cludes his  narrative  with  these  two  sentences:  "When 
they  [the  British]  got  about  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  road 
that  comes  from  Bedford  and  Bildrica  [Billerica]  they 
were  waylaid  and  a  great  many  killed.  When  I  got  there 
a  great  many  lay  dead  and  the  road  was  bloody."  These 
words  refer  to  the  fight  at  the  crossroads  that  are  now 
known  as  Merriam's  Corner. 

After  the  fight  at  the  North  Bridge  the  British  com- 
mander, Colonel  Smith,  seeing  the  militia  gathering  from 
every  side,  and  apprehending  very  serious  trouble,  had 
already  despatched  a  messenger  for  reinforcements,  when 
at  about  noon  he  decided  to  start  back  by  the  way  he  had 
come,  and  reach  Boston  while  yet  he  could.  Here,  at  Mer- 
riam's Corner,  he  was  first  set  upon  by  the  militia  com- 
panies.    Carved  upon  a  stone,  at  the  crossroads  we  read : 

The  British  troops 

retreating  from  the 

Old  North  Bridge 

were  here  attacked  in  flank 

by  the  men  of  Concord 

and  neighboring  towns 

and  driven  under  a  hot  fire 

to  Charlestown. 

36 


AROUND    BOSTON 

These  words  sound  the  key-note  of  the  disastrous  re- 
treat. The  minutemen,  in  deadly  earnest,  enraged  at 
the  death  of  their  comrades,  hiding  behind  fences  and 
barns,  utilizing  every  point  of  vantage,  picked  off  the 
British  soldiers,  who,  worn  by  their  long  night  march 
and  by  the  various  events  of  the  day,  dusty  and  be- 
draggled, harassed  incessantly  by  the  fire  of  their  hidden 
enemies,  plodded  doggedly  on,  finally  making  their  way 
back  to  Lexington,  but  leaving  many  of  their  number 
lying  upon  the  road. 

In  Lexington,  fortunately  for  them,  they  were  met 
by  the  reinforcements  sent  out  by  General  Gage  from 
Boston,  with  Lord  Percy  in  command.  He  had  taken 
up  his  position  at  the  Munroe  Tavern,  already  mentioned, 
and  had  planted  two  field-pieces  on  the  high  ground  near 
it.  He  had  formed  his  nine  hundred  men  into  a  hollow 
square,  and  into  this  living  fortress  the  jaded  regulars  re- 
treated, so  exhausted  that  many  fell  upon  the  ground,  with 
their  "tongues  hanging  out,"  to  take  a  moment's  respite. 

But  not  for  long.  To  reach  the  protection  of  Boston 
before  night  was  imperative.  So,  tired  and  hungry,  they 
resumed  their  march  again,  fighting  intermittent  skir- 
mishes all  the  way,  until,  toward  nightfall,  they  reached 
Cambridge  with  their  enemies  still  hanging  close  upon 
their  heels.  Here  they  found  the  bridge  across  the 
Charles  torn  up,  so,  retreating  over  the  Neck,  they  finally 
attained  Charlestown,  where  they  encamped  for  the  night 
on  Bunker  Hill,  with  two  hundred  and  seventy- three  of 
their  number  missing. 

37 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Thus  closed  that  memorable  day — the  day  that  stirred 
men  to  decisive  action,  and  from  which  may  be  dated 
"the  liberty  of  the  American  world." 

I  feel  that  I  cannot  better  terminate  this  chapter  de- 
voted to  its  stirring  events  than  by  quoting  the  sentence 
with  which  Richard  Henry  Dana  concluded  his  oration, 
delivered  at  Lexington  on  the  19th  of  April,  1875,  before 
the  President  of  the  United  States  and  a  distinguished 
company,  met  to  celebrate  the  hundredth  anniversary  of 
the  fight: 

"God  grant,  that,  if  the  day  of  peril  shall  come,  the 
people  of  this  republic,  so  favored,  so  numerous,  so  pros- 
perous, so  rich,  so  educated,  so  triumphant,  may  meet 
it — and  we  can  ask  no  more — with  as  much  intelligence, 
self-control,  self-devotion,  and  fortitude  as  did  the  men 
of  this  place,  in  their  fewness,  simplicity,  and  poverty, 
one  hundred  years  ago!" 


38 


Ill 

BUNKER   HILL 

THE  19th  of  April,  1775,  was  followed  by  a  month 
or  two  of  feverish  activity  in  and  around  Boston, 
and,  indeed,  throughout  all  the  American  col- 
onies. Tidings  of  the  fights  at  Lexington  and  Concord 
spread  like  wild-fire  through  the  land.  East  and  west, 
north  and  south,  as  the  message  flew  from  the  Green 
Mountain  intervales  to  the  cypress  swamps  of  the  Caro- 
lhias,  patriots  sprang  to  arms. 

The  Rhode  Island  Assembly  voted  an  "army  of  ob- 
servation," and  appointed  Nathaniel  Greene,  an  iron- 
master, who  was  destined  to  become  second  only  to 
Washington  himself  in  the  high  command,  as  its  brigadier. 
Twelve  hundred  men  from  the  New  Hampshire  Grants, 
with  gallant  John  Stark  at  their  head,  marched  into  the 
camp  at  Cambridge;  while  Israel  Putnam  led  the  men  of 
Connecticut  as  they  came  to  join  their  comrades  near 
Boston.  So  that  soon  the  American  lines  extended  from 
Prospect  Hill,  to  the  north  of  Cambridge,  all  the  way  to 
Roxbury,  both  wings  being  protected  by  intrenchments. 

Meanwhile,  the  British  garrison  in  Boston  had  also 
been  reinforced  by  the  arrival  of  fresh  regiments  from 
England,  with  three  distinguished  generals — Howe,  Clin- 

39 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

ton,  and  Burgoyne — names  we  shall  often  meet  hereafter. 
But  this  proud  army  and  the  governor  himself  found 
themselves  besieged  within  their  own  city,  quite  sur- 
rounded by  land  if  not  by  sea.  It  was  a  serious  situa- 
tion, and  the  British  generals  decided  to  combat  it  by 
fortifying  Dorchester  Heights  on  the  one  hand,  and 
Bunker  Hill  on  the  other,  thus  threatening  both  Ameri- 
can flanks. 

This  intention  became  known  to  the  patriots,  so,  to 
forestall  the  scheme,  a  little  army  was  paraded  in  the 
camp  at  Cambridge  on  the  evening  of  the  16th  of  June 
—a  clear,  warm  night — and  furnished  with  picks  and 
shovels.  President  Langdon  of  Harvard  offered  up  a 
prayer,  and  the  citizen-soldiers  set  out  for  Charlestown. 
There  they  halted  on  Bunker  Hill,  but  the  engineers  de- 
cided that  Breed's  Hill,  just  beyond,  was  better  suited 
to  their  purpose.  In  grim  silence,  Colonel  Gridley 
traced  the  lines  for  the  intrenchments,  and  the  men  fell 
to  work  with  their  picks  and  shovels  in  the  darkness. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken,  for  there,  directly  below  them 
in  the  river,  lay  the  three  British  frigates — the  Somerset, 
Lively,  and  Falcon — and  the  "all's  well"  of  the  ships' 
sentries  came  clearly  to  the  workers'  ears,  from  time  to 
time,  to  tell  them  that  as  yet  they  were  undiscovered. 
So  they  toiled  on  vigorously  through  the  night,  and  by 
dawn  had  thrown  up  a  long  intrenchment  with  a  redoubt 
on  the  very  spot  where  the  mighty  Bunker  Hill  Monu- 
ment now  raises  its  granite  shaft. 

Their  activities  were  not  discovered  until  daylight  re- 

40 


AROUND    BOSTON 

vealed  their  breastworks  to  the  watch  on  the  Lively,  who 
instantly  gave  the  alarm.  Soon  the  booming  of  this 
ship's  guns  was  waking  the  people  of  Boston,  who  crowded 
the  streets  and  flocked  to  points  of  vantage  in  the  North 
End,  where,  torn  by  conflicting  emotions — Whigs  pray- 
ing for  the  "rebels,"  Tories  for  the  "regulars" — they 
prepared  to  watch  the  impending  battle  from  housetops 
and  steeples. 

Meanwhile  General  Gage  had  called  a  council  at  his 
headquarters,  a  house  that  stood  until  quite  recently  in 
Hull  Street,  nearly  opposite  Copp's  Hill  burying-ground 
and  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  Old  North  Church. 
With  his  officers  he  then  crossed  over  to  the  old  grave- 
yard to  watch  events  and  direct  them. 

So,  to  Copp's  Hill  burying-ground  let  us  follow  him. 
This  ancient  cemetery,  occupying  the  highest  hill  in  North 
Boston,  has  retained  its  old-time  character  intact.  A 
great  proportion  of  the  graves  that  we  see  in  it  to-day 
were  there  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution.  There  lie  the 
Hutchinsons,  father  and  grandfather  of  the  last  royal 
governor;  there  are  interred 

The  REVEREND  DOCTORS 
INCREASE,  COTTON 
&  SAMUEL  MATHER 

as  the  inscription  upon  their  simple  tombstone  records; 
there,  "buried  in  a  stone  grave  10  feet  deep,"  lies  that 
stanch  old  patriot,  Captain  Daniel  Malcolm,  "one  of 
the  foremost  in  opposing  the  Revenue  Acts  in  America." 

41 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

"You  may  bang  the  dirt  and  welcome,  they're  as  safe 
as  Dan'l  Malcolm 
Ten  foot  beneath  the  gravestone  that  you've  splintered 
with  your  balls  !"* 

And,  indeed,  his  and  many  another  tombstone  in  the  old 
graveyard  still  bear  traces  of  the  bullets  that  flew  that 
afternoon. 

At  the  time  of  the  battle  there  was  a  battery  of  six 
guns  in  Copp's  Hill  burying-ground,  placed  near  the 
Mather  tomb.  General  Gage  took  up  his  position  be- 
side this  battery  and,  through  his  glasses,  could  plainly 
see  the  Americans  and  Prescott  walking  upon  the  parapet 
talking  to  and  encouraging  his  men. 

To-day,  of  course,  the  view  across  the  Charles  has 
changed  radically  since  the  time  of  the  Revolution. 
Rreed's  Hill,  then  an  open  pasture,  is  now  part  of  a 
crowded  city.  Factories,  terminals,  docks,  and  houses 
have  obliterated  all  the  ancient  landmarks.  Yet,  from 
this  point  of  vantage,  I  think,  can  still  be  obtained  the 
best  idea  of  the  battle  of  Runker  HilLf 

The  north  slope  of  Copp's  Hill  pitches  steeply  down  to 
the  river.  Directly  below,  at  the  ferry  where  Paul  Re- 
vere had  crossed  and  where  Charlestown  Rridge  now 
spans  the  river,  lay  the  Somerset  man-of-war,  the  largest 
of  the  Rritish  ships.  Old  Charlestown  stood  by  the 
waterside  just  beyond,  under  the  shadow  of  Rreed's  Hill, 
upon  which  the  monument  now  stands  so  conspicuously. 

*  "Grandmother's  Story  of  Bunker  Hill,"  by  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 
f  See  decorative  cover  lining. 

42 


AROUND    BOSTON 

Near  the  present  navy-yard  the  Lively  and  Falcon  lay 
at  anchor.  To  the  foot  of  the  eminence  farther  off  to 
the  right,  then  called  Morton's  Hill,  the  British  troops 
were  ferried  over,  landed,  and  formed  for  the  attack. 

By  this  time  it  was  three  in  the  afternoon.  The  day 
was  warm,  the  sky  cloudless.  Deliberately,  the  grenadiers 
and  light  infantry  deployed  their  lines,  and  then,  three 
deep,  in  the  blistering  sunshine,  began  the  toilsome  as- 
cent of  Breed's  Hill.  Silently  the  patriots  waited  behind 
their  breastworks,  watching  them  coming.  And  the  word 
went  round:  "Wait  till  you  see  the  whites  of  their  eyes." 
"Aim  at  the  handsome  coats;  pick  off  the  commanders  ! " 

We  all  know  the  rest  of  the  story:  how  the  regulars 
mounted  in  grim,  serried  ranks;  how  the  provincials 
waited  until  they  were  within  fifty  yards,  then  poured 
down  upon  them  one  deadly  volley  after  another;  how 
the  gallant  redcoat  ranks  faltered,  staggered,  and  broke; 
how  they  were  rallied  by  their  officers  for  a  second  attack 
and,  with  General  Howe  leading,  mounted  once  more  over 
the  bodies  of  their  fallen  comrades,  and  how  again,  before 
the  deadly  aim  of  the  patriot-soldiers,  their  lines  broke 
and  they  fell  back  to  the  shore. 

Meanwhile,  hot  shot,  flung  into  Charlestown,  had  set 
it  on  fire.  General  Clinton,  who,  with  General  Bur- 
goyne,  had  been  watching  the  battle  from  Copp's  Hill, 
nowT  rushed  down  to  the  waterside  and,  with  reinforce- 
ments, crossed  over  to  aid  his  comrades.  Slowly  and 
painfully  the  British  troops  reformed  their  ranks  and 
bravely   faced   their   redoubtable   enemy   a   third   time. 

43 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

The  American  ammunition  was  now  almost  exhausted; 
their  muskets  were  unprovided  with  bayonets.  This  time 
the  Rritish  were  able  to  push  home  their  attack  and,  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet,  carry  the  intrenchments  by  storm. 

Rurgoyne  remained  on  Copp's  Hill  until  the  end  of 
the  battle  and,  in  a  letter  to  Lord  Stanley,  thus  describes 
what  he  saw: 

"And  now  ensued  one  of  the  greatest  scenes  of  war  that 
can  be  conceived.  .  .  .  Howe's  corps,  ascending  the  hill 
in  the  face  of  intrenchments,  and  in  a  very  disadvan- 
tageous ground,  was  much  engaged;  and  to  the  left,  the 
enemy  pouring  in  fresh  troops  by  thousands  over  the 
land;  and  in  the  arm  of  the  sea,  our  ships  and  floating 
batteries  cannonading  them;  straight  before  us  a  large 
and  noble  town  in  one  blaze:  the  church  steeples,  being 
made  of  timber,  were  great  pyramids  of  fire  above  the 
rest;  behind  us,  the  church  steeples  and  heights  of  our 
camp  covered  with  spectators.  The  enemy  all  anxious 
suspense;  the  roar  of  cannon,  mortars,  musketry;  the 
crash  of  churches,  ships  upon  the  stocks,  and  whole  streets 
falling  together  in  ruin  to  fill  the  ear;  the  storm  of  the 
redoubts,  with  the  objects  above  described,  to  fill  the  eye; 
and  the  reflection,  that,  perhaps  a  defeat  was  a  final  loss 
to  the  Rritish  Empire  in  America,  to  fill  the  mind,— 
made  the  whole  a  picture  and  complication  of  horror  and 
importance,  beyond  anything  that  came  to  my  lot  to 
be  a  witness  to.  I  much  lament  my  nephew's  absence; 
it  was  a  sight  for  a  young  soldier  that  the  longest  service 
may  not  furnish  again." 

Among  some  letters  by  Rritish  officers  collected  by 
Samuel   Adams    Drake,    I    found    this   one   written   by 

44 


AROUND    BOSTON 

Adjutant  Waller  to  his  brother  in  England.  It  shifts 
us  to  a  nearer  point  of  view,  and  gives  a  picture  of  the 
storming  of  the  redoubt,  his  battalion,  the  Royal  Marines, 
according  to  Colonel  Carrington's  plan  of  the  battle, 
having  occupied  the  extreme  left  of  the  British  line. 

"Camp  of  Charlestown  Heights 
"22d.  June,  1775. 

"My  Dear  Brother, — Amidst  the  hurry  and  confusion 
of  a  camp  hastily  pitched  in  a  field  of  battle,  I  am  sat 
down  to  tell  you  I  have  escaped  unhurt,  where  many,  so 
many,  have  fallen.  The  public  papers  will  inform  you 
of  the  situation  of  the  ground  and  the  redoubt  that  we 
attacked  on  the  heights  of  Charlestown.  I  can  only  say 
that  it  was  a  most  daring  attempt,  and  that  it  was  per- 
formed with  as  much  gallantry  and  spirit  as  was  ever 
shown  by  any  troops  in  any  age. 

;'Two  companies  of  the  first  battalion  of  marines  and 
part  of  the  47th  regiment,  were  the  first  that  mounted 
the  breastwork;  and  you  will  not  be  displeased  when  I 
tell  you  that  I  was  with  those  two  companies  who  drove 
their  bayonets  into  all  that  opposed  them.  Nothing  could 
be  more  shocking  than  the  carnage  that  followed  the  storm- 
ing of  this  work.  We  tumbled  over  the  dead  to  get  at 
the  living.  .  .  .  The  rebels  had  5000  to  7000  men,  cov- 
ered by  a  redoubt,  breastworks,  walls,  hedges,  trees,  and 
the  like;  and  the  number  of  the  corps  under  General 
Howe  (who  performed  this  gallant  business)  did  not 
amount  to  fifteen  hundred.  We  gained  a  complete  vic- 
tory, and  intrenched  ourselves  that  night,  where  we  lay 
under  arms,  in  the  front  of  the  field  of  battle.  ...  I 
suppose,  upon  the  whole,  we  lost,  killed  and  wounded, 
from  eight  hundred  to  one  thousand  men. 

45 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

"We  killed  a  number  of  the  rebels,  but  the  cover  they 
fought  under  made  their  loss  less  considerable  than  it 
would  otherwise  have  been.  The  army  is  in  great 
spirits,  and  full  of  rage  and  ferocity  at  the  rebellious 
rascals  who  both  poisoned  and  chewed  the  musket-balls, 
in  order  to  make  them  the  more  fatal." 

But  the  "rebellious  rascals"  did  not  disperse,  nor  was 
the  "victory"  so  "complete"  as  Adjutant  Waller  thought. 
Instead,  the  patriots,  encouraged  by  the  battle,  tightened 
their  lines  about  Boston,  and  the  city  was  more  closely 
besieged  than  ever. 

On  the  2d  of  July,  by  decision  of  Congress,  General 
George  Washington  arrived  at  Cambridge  to  assume 
command  of  the  American  army.  The  simple  ceremony 
attending  his  investment  as  commander-in-chief  took 
place  next  day  under  the  historic  elm,  now  blasted  and 
torn  by  lightning,  that  still  stands  at  the  north  end  of 
Cambridge  Common.  Washington  made  his  headquar- 
ters at  Craigie  House,  which  had  been  prepared  for  his 
reception,  and  which  remains  one  of  the  landmarks  of 
the  college  town,  though  now  better  known  as  the  Long- 
fellow House.  It  is  still  occupied  by  the  poet's  eldest 
daughter,  whose  presence  lends  distinction  to  the  old 
demesne.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  my  visits  to  it,  nor 
my  pleasure  and  interest  in  seeing,  with  her  and  members 
of  her  family,  the  treasures  of  that  mansion-house,  so 
rarely  marked  by  memories. 

Washington  at  once  proceeded  to  strengthen  his  posi- 
tion.    He  fortified  the  heights  about  Cambridge — Pros- 

46 


AROUND    BOSTON 

pect,  Cobble,  and  Ploughed  Hills — and  extended  his  re- 
doubts as  far  as  Winter  Hill  on  the  left  to  the  heights  of 
Roxbury  on  the  right.  Then,  one  night  in  March,  1776, 
"with  an  expedition  equal  to  that  of  the  Genii  belonging 


^ 


Vicinity  of  the  Washington  Elm,  Cambridge 


to  Aladdin's  lamp,"  to  quote  the  words  of  a  British  officer, 
the  Americans  threw  up  two  redoubts  on  Dorchester 
Heights,  a  position  of  such  importance  that  from  it  and 
from  their  battery  on  Nook's  Hill  over  Boston  Neck, 
they  commanded  both  the  city  and  the  bay. 

47 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

The  Rritish  admiral  admitted  that  he  could  no  longer 
"keep  a  ship  in  the  harbor,"  and  Howe's  position  in 
Roston  became  untenable.  So,  on  the  17th  of  March, 
he  embarked  his  army  on  a  fleet  of  transports,  and  set 
sail  for  Halifax.  Three  days  later  Washington  entered 
the  streets  of  Roston  at  the  head  of  his  army,  and  was 
rapturously  greeted  by  the  patriotic  citizens. 


48 


TICONDEROGA  AND   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN 


TICONDEROGA  AND  LAKE  CHAMPLAIN 

WHILE  these  events  were  taking  place  in  and 
around  Boston,  the  other  colonies  were  also 
active.  Only  three  weeks  after  the  skir- 
mishes at  Lexington  and  Concord,  Ethan  Allen  took 
Ticonderoga. 

Our  next  pilgrimage,  then,  will  be  to  the  scene  of  this 
exploit — one  of  the  most  daring  and  spectacular  in  the 
early  annals  of  the  Revolution.  Though  born  in  Con- 
necticut, Ethan  Allen  migrated  to  the  New  Hampshire 
Grants  at  a  very  early  age,  and  settled  in  Bennington. 
There,  in  pre-Revolutionary  days,  he  used  to  frequent 
the  Green  Mountain  Tavern  (to  which  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  refer  later)  and  in  its  tap-room  he  and  Seth 
Warner  cemented  their  friendship  during  the  controver- 
sies over  the  New  York  border. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  they  both  longed 
to  express  their  patriotism  in  some  great  deed  of  heroism, 
and  the  story  of  their  hopes  and  of  what  they  did  is  best 
told,  I  think,  in  Ethan  Allen's  own  language — his  "Nar- 
rative," *  a  document  that  gives  us  a  fine  glimpse  of  this 

*  "Ethan  Allen's  Narrative  of  the  Capture  of  Ticonderoga  and  of  his 
Captivity  and  Treatment  by  the  British."  Written  by  himself  (Benning- 
ton, 1819).  In  the  preface  to  the  fifth  edition  I  find  this  statement  by 
the  senior  publisher,  Chauncy  Goodrich:  "It  is  given  in  the  plain  lan- 
guage of  its  self-educated  author  without  any  alteration.  The  senior  pub- 
lisher has  been  intimately  acquainted  with  his  widow,  who  died  about  ten 
years  since,  and  has  been  assured  by  her  that  this  narrative  is  printed  as 
he  wrote  it  without  alteration;  and  that  it  shows  more  of  his  true  char- 
acter than  all  else  ever  written  of  him." 

51 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

blunt,  honest  patriot — not  the  illiterate,  coarse  fellow  he 
is  sometimes  depicted,  but  a  frank,  red-blooded  fron- 
tiersman. His  narrative  is  dated  Bennington,  March 
25th,  1779,  so  was  written  just  after  he  returned  from  his 
captivity : 

"Ever  since  I  arrived  at  the  state  of  manhood,  and  ac- 
quainted myself  with  the  general  history  of  mankind,  I 
have  felt  a  sincere  passion  for  liberty.  The  history  of 
nations,  doomed  to  perpetual  slavery,  in  consequence  of 
yielding  up  to  tyrants  their  natural-born  liberties,  I  read 
with  a  sort  of  philosophical  horror;  so  that  the  first  sys- 
tematical and  bloody  attempt  at  Lexington,  to  enslave 
America,  thoroughly  electrified  my  mind,  and  fully  deter- 
mined me  to  take  part  with  my  country.  And,  while  I 
was  wishing  for  an  opportunity  to  signalize  myself  in  its 
behalf,  directions  were  privately  sent  to  me  from  the 
then  colony  (now  state)  of  Connecticut,  to  raise  the 
Green  Mountain  Boys,  and,  if  possible,  to  surprise  and 
take  the  fortress  of  Ticonderoga. 

"This  enterprise  I  cheerfully  undertook,  and  after  first 
guarding  all  the  several  passes  that  led  thither,  to  cut 
off  all  intelligence  between  the  garrison  and  the  country, 
made  a  forced  march  from  Bennington,  and  arrived  at 
the  lake  opposite  Ticonderoga,  on  the  evening  of  the 
ninth  day  of  May,  1775  with  two  hundred  and  thirty 
valiant  Green  Mountain  Boys,  and  it  was  with  the  ut- 
most difficulty  that  I  procured  boats  to  cross  the  lake. 
However,  I  landed  eighty-three  men  near  the  garrison, 
and  sent  the  boats  back  for  the  rear  guard,  commanded 
by  Col.  Seth  Warner,  but  the  day  began  to  dawn,  and  I 
found  myself  under  a  necessity  to  attack  the  fort,  before 
the  rear  could  cross  the  lake." 

52 


TICONDEROGA 

He  then  harangued  his  men,  explaining  the  danger  of 
the  enterprise,  and,  like  Pizarro,  asked  all  who  dared  to 
follow  him  to  "poise  their  firelocks." 

"The  men  being,  at  this  time,  drawn  up  in  three 
ranks,  each  poised  his  firelock.  I  ordered  them  to  face 
to  the  right,  and  at  the  head  of  the  center  file,  marched 
them  immediately  to  the  wicket-gate  where  I  found  a 
sentry  posted,  who  instantly  snapped  his  fusee  at  me;  I 
ran  immediately  toward  him  and  he  retreated  through 
the  covered  way  into  the  parade  within  the  garrison, 
gave  a  halloo,  and  ran  under  a  bomb-proof.  My  party, 
who  followed  me  into  the  fort,  I  formed  on  the  parade 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  face  the  two  barracks  which  faced 
each  other. 

"The  garrison  being  asleep,  except  the  sentries,  we 
gave  three  huzzas  which  greatly  surprised  them.  One 
of  the  sentries  made  a  pass  at  one  of  my  officers  with  a 
charged  bayonet,  and  slightly  wounded  him.  My  first 
thought  was  to  kill  him  with  my  sword;  but,  in  an  in- 
stant, I  altered  the  .design  and  fury  of  the  blow  to  a  slight 
cut  on  the  side  of  the  head;  upon  which  he  dropped  his 
gun,  and  asked  quarter,  which  I  readily  granted  him, 
and  demanded  of  him  the  place  where  the  commanding 
officer  kept;  he  shewed  me  a  pair  of  stairs  in  the  front 
of  a  barrack,  on  the  west  side  of  the  garrison,  which  led 
up  a  second  story  in  said  barrack,  to  which  I  immediately 
repaired,  and  ordered  the  commander,  Capt.  De  La 
Place,  to  come  forth  immediately,  or  I  would  sacrifice  the 
whole  garrison;  at  which  the  Capt.  came  instantly  to 
the  door  with  his  breeches  in  his  hand;  when  I  ordered 
him  to  deliver  me  the  fort;  he  asked  me  by  what  au- 
thority I  demanded  it;  I  answered  him  'In  the  name  of 
the  great  Jehovah  and  the  Continental  Congress.' 

53 


REVOLUTIONARY  PILGRIMAGE 

"The  authority  of  the  Congress  being  very  little  known 
at  that  time,  he  began  to  speak  again;  but  I  interrupted 
him,  and  with  my  drawn  sword  over  his  head,  again  de- 
manded an  immediate  surrender  of  the  garrison;  which 
he  then  complied,  and  ordered  his  men  to  be  forthwith 
paraded  without  arms,  as  he  had  given  up  the  garrison. 
In  the  mean  time  some  of  my  officers  had  given  orders 
and  in  consequence  thereof,  sundry  of  the  barrack  doors 
were  beat  down  and  about  a  third  of  the  garrison  im- 
prisoned, which  consisted  of  the  said  commander,  a  Lieut. 
Felt  ham,  a  conductor  of  artillery,  a  gunner,  two  ser- 
geants, and  forty  four  rank  and  file;  about  one  hundred 
pieces  of  cannon,  one  thirteen  inch  mortar  and  a  num- 
ber of  swivels. 

"This  surprise  was  carried  into  execution  in  the  grey 
of  the  morning  of  the  tenth  of  May,  1775.  The  sun 
seemed  to  rise  that  morning  with  a  superior  lustre;  and 
Ticonderoga  and  its  dependencies  smiled  on  its  con- 
querors, who  tossed  about  the  flowing  bowl,  and  wished 
success  to  Congress,  and  the  liberty  and  freedom  of 
America.  Happy  it  was  for  me,  at  that  time,  that  the 
then  future  pages  of  the  book  of  fate,  which  afterward 
unfolded  a  miserable  scene  of  two  years  and  eight  months 
imprisonment,  were  hid  from  my  view." 

Now  that  we  have  his  story,  let  us  visit  the  place. 
The  ruins  of  old  Fort  Ticonderoga,  the  key  to  all  the 
waterways  at  the  south  end  of  Lake  Champlain,  are  still 
among  the  most  impressive  in  our  country. 

I  have  not  visited  them  in  some  years — in  fact,  not 
since  the  time  when  I  made  the  drawings  that  accompany 
this  chapter.  I  have  never  wanted  to  go  again,  for  the 
memory  of  that  visit  has  been  tinged  with  a  flavor  of 

54 


TICONDEROGA 

adventure  and  romance  that,  I  feared,  might  be  dispelled 
if  I  visited  the  locality  again  under  changed  conditions. 
At  that  time  I  had  noticed  the  advertisement  of  a  sum- 
mer hotel  near  the  old  fort — an  account  that  read  most 
attractively — as  these  advertisements  always  do. 


The  Ruins  of  Fort  Ticonderoga 

So,  to  stay  at  this  hotel,  we  left  the  train  at  the  sta- 
tion of  Fort  Ti,  expecting  to  take  the  steamer  across  the 
lake.  But,  upon  inquiry,  the  captain  said :  "That  pier's 
rotten;  I  wouldn't  risk  my  boat  there  for  anything. 
And,  besides,  there's  a  sea  running."  "But  how  are  we 
going  to  get  across ? "  I  asked.  "Oh,  I  guess  you  can 
get  the  station  agent  to  row  you  over;  he's  got  a  boat." 

And  with  that  he  rang  his  engine-bell,  and  the  steamer 

55 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

floated  slowly  north,  settling  down  close  upon  the  water, 
like  a  big  white  duck.  The  train  we  had  just  left  was 
flying  toward  the  tail  of  the  lake,  leaving  a  billowy  cloud 
of  smoke  behind  it.  The  little  station  was  deserted. 
Presently  the  agent  appeared  with  our  luggage.  Yes, 
he'd  take  us  "over  the  lake  in  about  two  hours."  He'd 
his  "dinner  to  eat  and  his  job  to  finish." 

The  two  long  hours  slipped  by  in  the  shadow  of  Mount 
Defiance.  Then  he  beckoned  to  us,  and  we  descended 
to  a  little  cove  where  a  boat  lay  between  the  rocks.  Our 
trunk,  bags,  and  sketching  outfit  were  loaded  in  the  bow 
and  we  in  the  stern,  and  we  pushed  off.  He  rowed  a 
strong  stroke,  and,  despite  a  head  wind  and  the  white- 


Ruins  of  the  Officers'  Quarters  at  Ticonderoga 
56 


TICONDEROGA 

caps,  we  soon  could  discern  the  ruins  of  the  old  fort 
and  its  bastions  firmly  planted  on  the  rocks,  with  the 
walls  of  its  barracks  silhouetted  against  the  sky. 

Our  boatman  had  been  most  incommunicative.  Fi- 
nally he  headed  for  the  shore  and,  with  a  vigorous  stroke 
or  two,  drove  the  nose  of  the  boat  on  a  pebbly  beach 
and  dumped  out  our  luggage.  In  a  moment,  still  quite 
silent,  he  was  off  again,  gliding  over  the  lake,  leaving  us 
stranded  like  two  pilgrims  on  a  desert  shore.  Not  a 
house  nor  habitation  was  in  sight. 

We  took  our  smaller  belongings  and  walked  up  a  path 
some  three  hundred  yards  or  more,  when,  set  in  a  fine 
grove  of  locust-trees,  we  made  out  a  large  white  house — 
a  great  colonial  mansion  with  tall  columns  to  its  central 
portico,  and  long  wings  at  each  side  leading  to  end- 
pavilions.  This  was  the  summer  hotel  of  which  I  had 
read.  On  entering,  however,  we  found  only  a  shiftless 
fellow  in  his  shirt-sleeves  in  the  vast  corridor.  "Yes, 
this  is  the  hotel;  do  you  want  a  room?"  And  he  led 
us  off  to  one  of  the  end-pavilions  and  assigned  us  a  large 
chamber.  When  we  went  in  to  dinner  we  found  our- 
selves the  only  guests !  The  shiftless  one  was  the  pro- 
prietor, and  his  wife  the  cook. 

Well,  we  stuck  it  out  eight  days.  We  had  adventures, 
too.  One  night  a  party  of  drunken  yachtsmen  landed 
and  fired  pistols  right  and  left  to  give  vent  to  their  en- 
thusiasm. There  was  not  a  lock  or  key  to  any  of  our 
doors,  which  gave  directly  on  verandas,  and  we  did  not 
know  at  what  moment  these  roisterers  might  make  irrup- 

57 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

tion  into  our  room.  So  I  made  barricades  of  bureaus 
and  tables  as  the  unsteady  steps  echoed  up  and  down  the 
empty  corridors,  at  times  approaching,  then  disappear- 
ing in  dim  distances,  as  with  pistol-shots  and  loud  huzzas 
they  "tossed  about  the  flowing  bowl." 

The  climax  to  our  visit  was  reached  upon  the  eighth 
day,  when  our  proprietor  announced,  with  some  pertur- 
bation, that  there  would  be  no  dinner  as  his  wife  had 
run  away  !  So  he  drove  us  to  the  train,  and  we  proceeded 
to  Port  Henry  and  Crown  Point.  I  have  never  heard 
what  became  of  the  hotel. 

Luckily,  however,  my  drawings  were  completed. 
Luckily,  also,  we  had  lingered  long  enough,  undisturbed, 
among  the  ruins  to  absorb  their  every  detail.  We  had 
traced  the  underground  passage  (as  you  still  may  do) 
through  which  Ethan  Allen  led  his  men  from  the  sally- 
port. We  had  found  its  orifice  upon  the  parade-ground 
between  the  barracks.  We  had  explored  these  "two 
barracks  which  faced  each  other,"  as  Allen  describes, 
and  beyond  had  visited  the  old  French  lines  of  Fort 
Carillon. 

From  the  bastions,  high  above  the  river,  we  had  en- 
joyed wide  prospects.  To  the  north  stretched  Lake 
Champlain,  so  narrow  that  we  saw  both  banks,  so  long 
that  it  reached  the  far  horizon.  From  the  west  the  water- 
way came  in  from  Lake  George;  toward  the  south  and 
east,  Mount  Defiance  and  Mount  Independence  reared 
their  wooded  slopes,  with  the  village  of  Ticonderoga  lying 
at  their  feet,  while,  beyond,  the  hills  of  Vermont,  dotted 

58 


TICONDEROGA 

with  farms,  stretched  off  to  the  line  of  the  distant  Green 
Mountains. 

As  the  sun  dropped  and  the  shadows  lengthened,  how 
the  past  came  back — especially  in  the  moonlight,  when 
a  spirit  of  romance,  born  of  the  quiet  of  the  night,  hov- 
ered over  the  place,  and  the  ghosts  of  its  dead  heroes 
seemed  to  walk  again  among  the  trees  as  the  wind  softly 
stirred  their  rustling  leaves — the  men  of  the  French  and 
Indian  Wars — brave  Montcalm,  its  commandant,  who 
died  so  gloriously  before  Quebec;  General  Abercrombie 
and  his  gallant  young  lieutenant,  the  Viscount  Howe; 
Rogers  and  Stark  of  the  Rangers ;  and  Lord  Jeffrey  Am- 
hurst,  who  took  the  proud  fortress  from  the  French- 
then  the  men  of  '75:  Ethan  Allen,  Seth  Warner,  Rene- 
diet  Arnold,  St.  Clair,  and  Rurgoyne !  So  its  ruined 
ramparts  seemed  to  speak  of  gallant  deeds.  .  .  . 

After  Ethan  Allen  had  seized  the  fortress,  he  sent 
Seth  Warner  to  the  north  to  capture  Crown  Point.  This 
was  done  without  trouble  or  bloodshed.  Benedict  Ar- 
nold, who  had  accompanied  the  enterprise,  hot-headed 
and  ambitious,  now  wished  to  make  the  conquest  of 
Lake  Champlain  complete.  So,  with  fifty  men,  he  seized 
a  schooner,  mounted  some  guns  upon  it,  and  captured 
St.  John's  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  thus  driving  the  last 
British  soldier  from  its  shores. 

Lake  Champlain  now  remained  undisputably  in  Ameri- 
can hands  for  nearly  two  years.  A  new  star  fort  was 
built  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Independence,  opposite 
Ticonderoga,  and  both  places  were  well  garrisoned. 

59 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

In  March,  1777,  Sir  Guy  Carleton,  the  military  gov- 
ernor of  Canada,  received  a  message  from  London  re- 
questing him  to  detach  all  the  troops  that  he  could  spare, 
put  them  in  charge  of  Lieutenant-General  John  Bur- 


Rvins  of  Old  Fort  Frederick,  Crown  Point 

goyne,  and  send  them  south  "with  all  expedition"  to 
Albany  to  join  Sir  William  Howe's  forces,  and  "aid  him 
in  putting  down  the  rebellion." 

Thus  Burgoyne's  campaign  was  launched — a  campaign 
we  shall  now  follow  to  its  final  issue  on  the  plains  of 
Saratoga. 

It  was  to  proceed  in  two  divisions.  A  smaller  one, 
under  Lieutenant-Colonel  St.  Leger  was  to  go  by  way  of 

60 


TICONDEROGA 

the  Mohawk  Valley  (and  we  shall  follow  its  movements 
later).  The  main  column,  with  General  Burgoyne  him- 
self in  command,  was  to  move  south  by  way  of  Lake 
Champlain.  On  the  12th  of  June  Sir  Guy  Carleton  re- 
viewed this  proud  army  of  invasion  before  he  sent  it  forth 
upon  its  career.  The  picture  that  it  made  as  it  sailed 
down  the  placid  waters  of  Lake  Champlain  is  thus  viv- 
idly described*  by  Thomas  Anburey,  a  British  officer  who 
accompanied  the  expedition: 

"I  cannot  forbear  picturing  to  your  imagination  one 
of  the  most  pleasing  spectacles  I  ever  beheld.  When 
we  were  in  the  widest  part  of  the  lake,  whose  beauty  and 
extent  I  have  already  described,  it  was  remarkably  fine 
and  clear — not  a  breeze  was  stirring — when  the  whole 
army  appeared  at  one  view  in  such  perfect  regularity  as 
to  form  the  most  complete  and  splendid  regatta  you  can 
possibly  conceive.  .  .  . 

"In  the  front  the  Indians  went  with  their  birch  canoes, 
containing  twenty  or  thirty  in  each;  then  the  advanced 
corps  in  regular  line  with  the  gun-boats;  then  followed 
the  Royal  George  and  Inflexible,  towing  large  booms 
which  are  to  be  thrown  across  two  points  of  land,  with 
the  other  brigs  and  sloops  following;  after  them  the 
first  brigade  in  a  regular  line,  then  the  Generals  Bur- 
goyne, Phillips  and  Riedesel  in  their  pinnaces;  next  to 
them  were  the  second  brigade,  followed  by  the  German 
brigades;  and  the  rear  was  brought  up  with  the  sutlers 
and  followers  of  the  army.  Upon  the  appearance  of  so 
formidable  a  fleet  you  may  imagine  they  were  not  a 

*  "Travels  through  the  Interior  Parts  of  America  in  a  series  of  Letters." 
By  an  Officer. 

61 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

little  dismayed  at  Ticonderoga,  for  they  were  apprised  of 
our  advance,  as  we  every  day  could  see  their  watch-boats." 

This  splendid  army  consisted  of  more  than  seven 
thousand  troops,  commanded  by  efficient  officers  and 
provided  with  exceptional  artillery.  About  half  of  its 
soldiers  were  German  mercenaries.  Its  weak  point,  as 
we  shall  see,  lay  in  its  lack  of  pioneers,  horses,  and  pro- 
visions for  its  transport. 

A  preliminary  camp  was  established  on  the  Boquet 
River  above  Crown  Point,  and  here  in  answer  to  a  proc- 
lamation about  four  hundred  Indians  joined  the  expedi- 
tion. Thence  an  advance  was  made  on  Crown  Point, 
which  surrendered  without  opposition.  The  army  then 
divided  into  two  columns.  One,  the  British  troops 
under  Brigadier-General  Fraser,  marched  down  the  west 
shore  of  the  lake;  the  other,  the  German  troops  under 
General  Riedesel,  followed  the  east  shore;  while  Bur- 
goyne  himself  sailed  with  the  fleet. 

The  British  column  arrived  before  Ticonderoga  on  the 
1st  of  July,  and  on  the  following  day  the  Americans 
abandoned  the  old  French  works,  burned  their  defenses, 
and  retired  into  the  main  fortress.  Its  garrison,  as  well 
as  that  upon  the  star  fort  on  Mount  Independence  op- 
posite, was  commanded  by  General  Arthur  St.  Clair, 
who  had  under  his  orders  a  total  of  about  twenty-five 
hundred  continentals,  and  nine  hundred  poorly  equipped 
militia.  He  decided  that  he  could  hold  the  fort,  but  only 
for  a  short  time,  as  supplies,  clothing,  and  military  stores 
were  all  deficient. 

62 


TICONDEROGA 


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Fr.  TUo«DrRocA^ri-lKDcpl:NI)EN<:E 
:HWBBAM>TON 

jCASTtETOW 

•RUTLAND 

VAIUNCFORD 

'.'MANCEESTEK 
SHAFTESBURY 
8ENNINCT0N 


General  Schuyler,  who  commanded  the  Northern  De- 
partment, and  had  just  inspected  the  defenses  at  Ticon- 
deroga,  also  foresaw  its  probable  downfall,  for  he  wrote: 
"The  insufficiency  of  the 
garrison  at  Ticonderoga, 
the  improper  state  of  the 
fortifications,  and  the 
want  of  discipline  in  the 
troops,  give  me  great 
cause  to  apprehend  that 
we  shall  lose  that  for- 
tress." 

His  fears  proved  only 
too  well-founded.  Baron 
Riedesel's  troops  drew 
close  about  the  foot  of 
Mount  Independence 
from  the  north  and  east, 
while  the  British,  cross- 
ing to  Sugar  Loaf  Hill, 
which  had  always  been 
deemed  inaccessible  for 
artillery,  in  the  dead  of 
night,  succeeded  in  plac- 
ing a  battery  upon  its 
summit.  This  new  posi- 
tion they  called  Fort  Defiance,  and  from  it  they  could 
command  both  Ticonderoga  and  Mount  Independence 
from  an  elevation  several  hundred  feet  higher  than  either. 

63 


i  i 


Map  Illustrating  Burgoynet 
Campaign 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

With  their  glasses,  they  could  plainly  watch  the  move- 
ments of  every  soldier  in  both  forts. 

Under  so  startling  a  menace,  a  council  of  American 
officers  decided  it  was  best  to  evacuate  while  yet  the  south 
slope  of  Mount  Independence  was  open  for  retreat. 

Lake  Champlain,  roughly  speaking,  is  shaped  like  a 
thin  fish  swimming  north,  with  two  long  ends  to  its 
tail.  Lake  George*  is  one  of  these  ends;  the  other  is  a 
narrow  waterway,  South  River,  that  extends  down  as 
far  as  Whitehall  or  Skenesborough,  as  it  then  was  called. 
A  temporary  bridge  of  floats,  protected  by  a  boom  of 
heavy  timbers,  clinched  with  bolts,  had  been  built  by 
the  Americans  to  impede  navigation  into  this  south  arm 
of  the  lake  and  to  connect  Fort  Ticonderoga  with  Mount 
Independence. 

When  the  evacuation  was  decided  upon,  it  was  arranged 
that  the  Ticonderoga  garrison  would  cross  this  bridge, 
and  joining  that  of  Fort  Independence  march  by  land  to 
Skenesborough  via  Castleton.  The  baggage,  ammuni- 
tion, and  stores,  with  the  invalids,  under  the  escort  of  a 
battalion  of  troops  under  Colonel  Long,  was  to  go  in 
batteaux  to  the  same  destination  by  the  narrow  south 
end  of  the  lake.  The  retreat  was  to  be  effected  during 
the  night  of  the  5th  of  July. 

And  now  we  have  our  second  picture  of  Ticonderoga. 
The  guns  of  the  fort,  to  quiet  suspicions,  were  keeping 
up  a  desultory  fire  upon  the  battery  on  Mount  Defiance. 

*  The  old  Indian  name  for  Lake  George  was  "Horican,"  or  "Tail  of  the 
Lake." 

64 


TICONDEROGA 


Meanwhile,  though  a  young  moon  was  shining,  the 
American  garrison,  at  three  in  the  morning,  in  stealthy 
silence,  crossed  the  bridge  unseen,  and  arrived  at  the 
foot  of  Mount  Independence.  The  troops  from  the  fort 
above  came  down 
to  join  them,  but 
just  at  this  critical 
moment  some  one, 
contrary  to  orders, 
set  fire  to  the  house 
of  General  de  Fer- 
moy,  commander  of 
Fort  Independence, 
and  the  flames,  leap- 
ing aloft,  revealed 
the  American  col- 
umns to  the  British 
sentries. 

The  boats  got  off 
and  the  garrison 
marched  away,  but 
all   knew  that  their 


FTINDEPiyprNCi: 


Map  of  Ticonderoga 

movements  had  been  discovered.  The  British  drums 
beat  to  arms.  Quick  orders  rang  in  the  night.  When 
day  broke  all  was  astir,  and  a  pursuit  rapidly  organized. 
General  Fraser,  with  an  advance  corps  of  light  infantry, 
started  after  the  fleeing  garrison,  General  Riedesel  fol- 
lowing with  his  Germans. 

Meanwhile  a  passage  had  been  cut  through  the  boom 

65 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

and  bridge,  and  the  British  frigates  moved  with  all 
speed  down  the  South  River,  in  pursuit  of  the  Ameri- 
can shipping.  It  was  a  critical  moment,  and  every  one 
knew  it. 


TO   THE   PLAINS   OF  SARATOGA 


TO  THE  PLAINS  OF  SARATOGA 

I 
TICONDEROGA  TO  FORT  EDWARD 

FIRST  we  shall  follow  Burgoyne  and  his  floating 
column  to  Skenesborough.  So  swiftly  did  he 
move,  and  so  hotly  did  he  pursue  Colonel  Long 
and  the  American  flotilla,  that  he  reached  the  south  end 
of  the  lake  only  two  hours  behind  the  Americans.  These 
had  had  no  time  to  organize,  and,  besides,  what  could  they 
do  against  such  a  formidable  enemy  ?  So,  abandoning 
all  hope  of  resistance,  they  set  fire  to  the  mills,  shipping, 
dwellings,  and  to  the  stores  that  they  had  saved  at  such 
pains,  and  all  went  up  together  in  one  vast  brasier, 
whose  flames,  mounting  aloft,  licked  up  the  mountain- 
side, devouring  trees,  shrubs,  and  houses,  in  one  great 
conflagration.  The  little  American  column,  meanwhile, 
hopelessly  outnumbered,  hastened  onward  to  Fort  Ann, 
eleven  miles  to  the  south. 

Burgoyne  remained  at  Skenesborough  for  some  time, 
waiting  for  General  Fraser  and  organizing  his  advance. 
He  stayed  with  Major  Skene,  a  noted  loyalist,  from 
whom  the  town  took  its  name,  and  who  was  able  to  give 
him  much  information  about  the  country  and  the  people, 
some  of  it,  as  events  proved,  of  value,  some  of  it  not. 

Skenesborough  is  now  called  Whitehall.     It  is  situated 

09 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

at  the  point  where  the  south  end  of  Lake  Champlain  is 
tapped  by  the  Champlain  Canal,  that  connects  it  with 
the  Hudson  River,  thus  affording  an  unbroken  water- 
way from  New  York  to  Canada.  The  situation  of  the 
town  is  highly  picturesque.  A  hill  with  a  rounded  top 
but  very  steep  sides,  well-wooded,  rises  abruptly  above 
it,  holding  upon  its  declivities  some  of  the  buildings.  A 
big,  black  cannon  planted  among  them  on  a  ledge,  points 
its  nose  up  the  lake  to  remind  you  of  the  one-time  im- 
portance of  this  strategic  point. 

The  main  portion  of  the  town  clusters  about  the  base 
of  this  hill,  its  shapely  church  spires  telling  handsomely 
against  the  green  slopes  behind  them.  The  principal 
street,  parked  in  places,  borders  the  canal,  whose  locks 
are  alive  with  tugs  and  barges.  Beyond,  long  lines  of 
freight-cars  fill  the  railway  yards  and  emphasize  the  con- 
sequence of  this  long  waterway — the  whole  aspect  of  the 
place  being  strongly  reminiscent  of  some  busy  canal  town 
in  Flanders:  Dinan  or  Namur,  for  example. 

Burgoyne's  route  to  the  Hudson  is  almost  identical 
with  that  now  followed  by  the  Champlain  Canal.  Thus 
far  all  had  gone  well  with  him,  and  his  success  had  equalled 
his  most  sanguine  hopes.  The  first  act  of  his  drama — 
"the  first  period  of  this  campaign,"  as  he  himself  calls 
it — had  ended  brilliantly  here  at  Skenesborough.  In  the 
second  act  his  troubles  were  to  begin — troubles  that  com- 
menced as  soon  as  he  left  Major  Skene's  house. 

A  fine  state  highway  takes  one  to-day  along  the  Cham- 
plain Canal,  landing  you  finally,  twenty-five  miles  away, 

70 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

at  Fort  Edward.  From  it  you  obtain  an  excellent  idea 
of  the  topography  of  the  region  through  which  Burgoyne 
now  began  this  advance.  At  first  the  valley  is  quite 
narrow,  hemmed  in  by  a  succession  of  wooded  hills; 
then  it  widens  enough  to  reveal  the  lofty  hills  that  sur- 
round Lake  George  upon  the  one  hand,  and  the  distant 
Green  Mountains  on  the  other. 

A  mile  or  two  north  of  Fort  Ann,  the  canal,  railroad,  and 
highway  together  penetrate  a  narrow  defile,  rocky  and 
clothed  only  with  stunted  cedars.  Here  Colonel  Long 
with  his  detachment,  reinforced  by  troops  sent  forward 
by  General  Schuyler,  made  his  first  stand  against  the 
pursuing  British.  The  Americans  were  almost  successful 
in  their  defense,  for  at  first  they  flanked  their  enemy,  got 
in  his  rear,  and  "made  a  very  vigorous  attack,  and  they 
certainly  would  have  forced  us,"  states  Major  Forbes  of 
of  the  Ninth,  "had  it  not  been  for  some  Indians  that 
arrived  and  gave  the  Indian  whoop."  This  turned  the 
tide,  the  Americans  gave  way,  fell  back  to  and  burned 
Fort  Ann,  that  was  untenable  before  so  strong  an  ad- 
versary, and  retreated  to  Fort  Edward,  where  they  joined 
forces  with  General  Schuyler's  command. 

Fort  Ann  of  to-day  is  a  pleasant  village,  set  on  a  hill- 
ock with  nothing  in  particular,  except  its  name,  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  other  villages  in  its  vicinity.  Beyond  it, 
the  valley  widens  out  even  more,  until  it  becomes  quite 
level,  and  rapidly  takes  on  the  characteristics  of  the 
broad  Hudson  valley,  peaceful,  pastoral,  rather  unculti- 
vated, with  distant  mountains  lying  along  far  horizons. 

71 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

In  the  days  of  the  Revolution  it  was  wooded,  and 
Schuyler  had  used  every  artifice  to  impede  his  enemy's 
advance.     Thomas  Anburey  writes: 

"The  country  between  our  late  encampment  at  Skenes- 
borough  and  this  place,  was  a  continuation  of  woods  and 
creeks,  interspersed  with  deep  morasses;  and  to  add  to 
these  impediments,  the  enemy  had  very  industriously 
augmented  them,  by  felling  immense  trees,  and  various 
other  modes,  so  that  it  was  with  the  utmost  pains  and 
fatigue  that  we  could  work  our  way  through  them.  Ex- 
clusive of  these,  the  watery  grounds  and  marshes  were 
so  numerous,  that  we  were  under  the  necessity  of  con- 
structing no  less  than  forty  bridges  to  pass  them,  and 
over  one  morass  there  was  a  bridge  of  near  two  miles  in 
length." 

The  Americans  had  also  rounded  up  all  the  live  stock 
of  the  region  so  that  Rurgoyne's  foraging  parties  brought 
him  no  supplies.  This  was  striking  the  Rritish  army  in 
its  weakest  spot,  for,  as  I  have  said,  it  was  deficient  in 
stores,  and  the  farther  it  went  from  its  bases,  the  more 
acute  this  problem  became. 

The  road  from  Fort  Ann  to  Fort  Edward  takes  us 
through  the  large  modern  town  of  Hudson  Falls,  above 
which  is  Glenn's  Falls,  where  the  Hudson,  though  now 
harnessed  by  machinery  and  almost  screened  by  a  new 
viaduct,  tumbles  in  a  series  of  broad  cascades  a  distance 
of  sixty  feet.  Reside  these  rushing  waters,  "in  one  place 
white  as  snow,  in  another  green  as  grass,"  as  Hawk-eye 
himself  describes  them,  dwelt  Uncas,  last  of  the  Mohicans, 

72 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

for  it  was  here,  by  the  portages  between  the  Hudson 
and  the  lakes,  that  Fenimore  Cooper  lays  his  famous 
story. 

Having  forced  its  way  from  the  west  through  a  series 
of  rocky  defiles,  and  having  here  made  its  impetuous 
descent,  the  Hudson  turns  abruptly  to  the  south,  and 
spreads  out  serene  and  placid  as  it  takes  its  lazy  way 
to  the  sea. 

Just  below  this  sharp  bend  lay  Fort  Edward,  that 
played  so  prominent  a  part  in  the  annals  of  the  French 
and  Indian  Wars.  Now  a  modern  town  of  some  conse- 
quence covers  its  site.  The  star-shaped  fort  used  to 
stand  upon  the  east  bank  of  the  Hudson,  high  above  the 
river,  its  ramparts  protected  by  it  as  well  as  by  Fort 
Edward  Creek,  which  here  flows  in. 

After  his  long  struggle  across  the  intervening  country, 
Burgoyne  came  down  to  Fort  Edward  by  way  of  Sandy 
Hill,  at  which  place  occurred  the  unfortunate  murder  of 
Jane  M'Crea,  that  did  so  much  to  alienate  loyalists  and 
patriots  alike  from  the  British  cause — an  event  that  fits 
well  into  the  setting  of  this  country  so  linked  with  Indian 
myths  and  murders.  The  exact  facts  connected  with 
Jane  M'Crea's  death  have  always  been  more  or  less 
shrouded  in  mystery,  so  that,  around  her  tragic  story, 
many  fictions  have  been  woven  and  many  a  harrowing 
tale  been  told. 

Anburey,  in  a  letter,  dated  "Camp  at  Fort  Edward." 
and  written  a  few  days  after  the  tragedy,  thus  recounts 
the  facts  as  he  heard  them: 

73 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

14  To  those  who  have  been  averse  to  our  employing 
Indians,  a  melancholy  instance  was  lately  afforded  that 
will  sharpen  their  arguments  against  the  maxim,  and,  as 
the  matter  will  be  greatly  exaggerated,  when  the  ac- 
counts of  it  arrive  in  England,  I  shall  relate  to  you  the 
circumstance,  as  it  really  happened.  .  .  . 

"A  young  lady,  upon  the  approach  of  our  army,  was 
determined  to  leave  her  father's  house  and  join  it,  as  a 
young  man,  to  whom  she  was  on  the  point  of  being  mar- 
ried, was  an  officer  in  the  provincial  troops.  Some  In- 
dians, who  were  out  upon  a  scout,  by  chance  met  her  in 
the  woods;  they  at  first  treated  her  with  every  mark  of 
civility  they  are  capable  of  and  were  conducting  her  into 
camp,  when,  within  a  mile  of  it,  a  dispute  arose  between 
the  two  Indians,  whose  prisoner  she  was,  and  words 
growing  very  high,  one  of  them,  who  was  fearful  of  losing 
the  reward  for  bringing  her  safe  into  camp,  most  in- 
humanly struck  his  tomahawk  into  her  skull,  and  she 
instantly  expired. 

''The  situation  of  the  General  whose  humanity  was 
much  shocked  at  such  an  instance  of  barbarity,  was  very 
distressing  and  critical;  for  however  inclined  he  might 
be  to  punish  the  offender,  still  it  was  hazarding  the  re- 
venge of  the  Indians,  whose  friendship  he  had  to  court 
rather  than  seek  their  enmity.  .  .  .  The  General  shewed 
great  resentment  to  the  Indians  upon  this  occasion  and 
laid  restraints  upon  their  dispositions  to  commit  other 
enormities." 

Indeed,  this  incident  pained  Rurgoyne  exceedingly, 
and  occasioned  him  no  end  of  trouble.  When  reproached 
with  it  by  General  Gates,  he  sent  this  fine  reply:  " I  could 
not  be  conscious  of  the  foul  deeds  you  impute  to  me  for 

74 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

the  whole  continent  of  America;  though  the  wealth  of 
worlds  were  in  its  bowels  and  a  paradise  upon  its  surface." 

In  the  latter  part  of  July,  he  moved  down  from  Sandy 
Hill  to  Fort  Edward,  where  his  soldiers,  for  the  first  time, 
beheld  the  Hudson,  so  long  the  goal  of  their  desires. 
They  were  greatly  heartened  by  this  sight  for  their 
troubles  now  seemed  nearing  their  end. 

Meanwhile  General  Schuyler,  unable  to  face  Bur- 
goyne  with  his  scant  army,  had  retired  down  the  river 
and  taken  up  his  position  near  Stillwater,  above  the  mouth 
of  the  Mohawk  River,  and  not  far  from  busy,  present- 
day  Mechanicsville.  Both  generals  now  busied  them- 
selves with  preparations  for  the  conflict  which  seemed 
inevitable.  And  while  they  remain  thus  in  close  prox- 
imity, let  us  return  to  see  what  became  of  the  garrison  of 
Ticonderoga  that  started  south  through  the  mountains 
of  \  ermont. 


75 


II 

THE  GREEN  MOUNTAINS 

THIS  quest  will  take  us  through  the  Green  Moun- 
tain region — as  delightful  a  motor  trip  as  one 
could  desire — the  stretch  from  Rutland  to 
Bennington,  in  particular,  being  a  long  succession  of 
beautiful  landscapes,  framed  with  mountains  whose  con- 
tours reminded  us,  as  our  French  chauffeur  expressed 
it,  of  his  own  "native  Pyrenees."  Like  the  verdant 
Pyrenean  slopes,  they  are  wooded  to  their  summits — 
whence  their  name.  At  their  feet,  knolls  and  hillocks 
are  clothed  with  stately  oaks,  elms,  and  maples,  to  which 
now  and  then  groves  and  clumps  of  hemlocks  add  a 
sombre  note.  But  in  the  valleys  the  fields  are  lush 
and  green,  and  aglow,  especially  in  June,  with  the  bright- 
est wild  flowers. 

It  was  to  these  mountains  of  Vermont,  as  I  have 
stated,  that  the  Ticonderoga  garrison  escaped  on  its  road 
to  Castleton.  But  they  were  hotly  pursued  by  Fraser's 
corps,  while  Riedesel,  with  his  Hessians,  followed  close 
behind.  The  American  main  column,  under  St.  Clair, 
pushed  on  rapidly — threading  the  narrow  "intervales" 
of  the  Green  Mountains,  whose  mazes  they  knew  so  well, 
and  attained  Castleton  in  safety. 

76 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

The  rear-guard,  however,  under  gallant  Seth  Warner, 
remained  behind  at  Hubbardton.  Here,  early  on  a  hot, 
summer  morning,  they  were  overtaken  by  Fraser's  troops 
and  a  fierce  battle  ensued.  The  Americans  were  so  fa- 
vorably posted,  and  poured  such  a  well-directed  fire  into 
the  British  ranks  that  they  would  have  carried  the  day 
had  not  Riedesel  arrived  at  the  opportune  moment  and, 
with  flags  flying  and  fifes  playing,  thrown  his  fresh  troops 
into  the  conflict.  The  tide  quickly  turned,  and  the 
American  defeat  was  complete.  Their  broken  regiments 
fled  in  every  direction — some  over  the  mountains  to 
Rutland;  others  to  join  their  comrades  at  Castleton. 
When  these  latter  reached  St.  Clair  and  told  of  their 
disaster,  he  collected  every  fugitive  he  could  find  and 
hastened  forward  to  General  Schuyler  on  the  Hudson, 
joining  him  about  five  days  later. 

Castleton  to-day  has  an  air  of  real  distinction.  It  is 
set  in  a  valley  hemmed  in  by  mountains  of  picturesque 
and  fantastic  contour.  Many  of  its  houses  are  very 
old.  Porticos  with  tall,  white  columns  alternate  with 
simple  clapboard ed  fronts  to  form  an  interesting  main 
street  that  is  shaded  by  noble  elms.  Just  as  you  leave 
it  to  proceed  to  Rutland,  a  tablet  marks  the  site  of  Fort 
Warren,  the  scene  of  a  conflict. 

Through  a  gateway  formed  by  Mount  Handy  on  the 
north  and  Mount  Herrick  on  the  south  we  now  entered 
the  valley  of  the  Otter  and  Rutland  lay  before  us,  its 
tall  church  spires  rising  finely  above  the  general  mass 
of  its  buildings.     We  crossed  a  long  bridge  that  spans 

77 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

the  river  and  important  railway  yards,  descended  its 
main  street — a  busy  thoroughfare — and  drew  up  before 
the  hotel. 

Rutland  was  always  a  favorite  recruiting  place  for  the 
Green  Mountain  Boys,  as  well  as  their  haven  of  refuge 
after  their  forays.  This  fact  is  commemorated  by  a 
bronze  statue  by  Porter  that  has  recently  been  erected  by 
the  Daughters  of  the  Revolution,  up  under  the  lofty  trees 
that  shade  a  handsome  avenue  in  the  residential  district 
of  the  city.  A  powerful,  manly  fellow,  clad  in  shirt  and 
homespuns,  stands  upon  a  great  pile  of  boulders  that 
strongly  suggests  a  mountain-top.  His  head  is  turned, 
and  the  action  brings  into  play  the  big  muscles  of  the  neck 
and  chest;  his  attitude  is  alert  and  vigilant;  his  pose 
striking  and  instinct  with  life;  and  it  is  indeed  good  to 
see,  in  so  remote  a  locality,  such  a  real  contribution  to 
the  art  that  commemorates  the  Revolution.  The  simple 
inscription,  too,  is  perfect:  "To  the  Green  Mountain 
Boys." 

From  Rutland  southward  the  road  follows  the  Otter 
River,  threading  a  beautiful  valley,  hemmed  in  between 
the  Taconic  Ridge  on  the  one  side  and  the  main  range 
of  the  Green  Mountains  on  the  other.  The  day  we 
motored  down  it  was  showery,  and  gray  clouds  hung 
thick  at  times  about  the  mountains,  hiding  one  peak 
and  revealing  another;  screening  one  range  entirely  and 
crawling  over  another  in  long,  white  filaments,  that  hung 
like  ghosts  among  the  trees,  and  by  their  air  of  mystery 
enhanced  the  sense  of  height. 

78 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

At  Wallingford  I  noted  a  granite  boulder  by  the  church 
engraved  with  these  words:  "In  memory  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary soldiers  who  went  from  Wallingford."  Beyond 
we  passed  the  Nichols  Farm  that  dates  from  1778.  Now 
and  then  we  came  upon  important  marble  quarries,  and 
frequently  saw  the  sign  "Maple  and  nut  candy,"  that 
hinted  at  another  industry  of  the  countryside. 

Then  we  entered  the  main  street  of  Manchester-in-the- 
Mountains,  that  alluring  resort  situated  at  the  foot  of 
Mount  Equinox.  Sidewalks  of  marble  border  the  broad 
avenue,  and  towering  elms  of  great  age  shade  it.  The 
white  colonnades  of  the  Equinox  House — reminiscent  of 
Jefferson's  dream  at  the  University  of  Virginia — invited 
us  to  linger,  as  well  as  the  mid- Victorian  atmosphere  of 
its  spacious  rooms,  with  their  brocaded  hangings  and  old- 
fashioned  rosewood  furniture.  "Here  in  summer,"  in 
naive  fashion  says  good  Colonel  Jack  Graham,  who 
wrote  of  Vermont  in  1797,  "the  kind  breezes,  which 
whisper  among  the  trees,  and  press  between  the  moun- 
tains, refresh  the  weary  traveller  and  render  this  place, 
if  I  may  venture  to  use  such  an  expression,  the  habita- 
tion of  the  Zephyrs." 

But  despite  these  allurements,  so  real  and  so  substan- 
tial, we  remained  firm  to  our  purpose  and  pushed  on  to 
Bennington,  our  objective  for  the  night. 

We  soon  reached  Shaftesbury,  beyond  which  we  climbed 
quite  a  steep  grade.  Then  from  a  summit  we  beheld,  for 
the  first  time,  the  valley  of  Bennington  lying  spread  be- 
neath  us — a   rarely   beautiful   landscape,   built   upon   a 

79 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 


great  scale  and  worthy  the  brush  of  Inness  or  of  Con- 
stable. Lofty,  purplish  mountains,  wreathed  in  clouds, 
enclosed  a  broad  stretch  of  country  whose  undulations 
were  clothed  with  stately  trees.  In  the  centre,  the  focal 
point  of  the  picture,  placed  high  upon  an  eminence,  the 
tall  shaft  of  the  Bennington  Monument  shot  upward, 
rising  handsomely  against  the  vast  blue  dome  of  Mount 
Anthony. 

We  passed  by  an  outlying  village  or  two,  and  then, 
at  the  very  door  of  the  city,  as  it  were,  were  treated  to  a 
novel  sight — a  deer  (it  was  nearing  sunset)  leaping  the 
fences,  one  after  another,  and  even  the  railway  tracks, 

as  he  made  for  the  depths  of  the 
woods  beyond.  Then  we  ob- 
tained a  near  view  of  the  monu- 
ment, and  of  Mount  Anthony, 
finely  silhouetted  against  the 
western  sky,  where  the  clouds 
were  now  breaking,  and  shafts 
of  light  shot  forth,  giving  promise 
for  the  morrow. 

We  drew  up  before  the  home- 
like Walloomsac  Inn,  on  the  hill, 
not  far  from  the  monument, 
and  a  few  minutes  later  were 
dining  in  a  charming  home  near 
by  and  talking  of  Bennington, 
its  history  and  its  attractions. 
The  town  certainly  possesses 
80 


Battle  Monument,  Bennington 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 


that  evanescent  something  that  we  call  "atmosphere." 
Its  modern  section,  to  be  sure,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
with  the  shops  and  newer  dwellings,  is  not  particularly 
attractive;  but  the  old  quarter,  up  above,  is  still  to  a 
remarkable  degree  redolent  of  other  days.  Most  of  its 
houses  are  a  century  old,  and  many  are,  architecturally, 
of  great  inter- 
est, with  their 
pilastered  cor- 
ners, delicate 
dentillated  cor- 
nices, fanlights, 
and  well-spaced 
window  open- 
ings. 

Directly  op- 
posite the  inn 
stands  a  hand- 
some church, 
and  up  the  shaded  avenue  the  soaring  monument  ap- 
pears. There  is  scarcely  a  house  on  Monument  Avenue 
that  has  not  weathered  its  hundredth  winter.  Half-way 
up  it  a  bronze  catamount  marks  the  site  of  the  Green 
Mountain  Tavern,  to  which  I  have  alluded  in  a  pre- 
ceding chapter  as  the  place  in  which  Ethan  Allen  and 
Seth  Warner  planned  their  attack  upon  Ticonderoga. 
Grouched  upon  its  sign-board,  a  stuffed  catamount  used 
to  snarl  toward  New  York  State,  with  which  the  New 
Hampshire  Grants  were  then  in  controversy  concerning 

81 


The  Catamount  Tavern,  now 
completely  destroyed 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

the  boundary.  From  this  sign  the  place  became  known 
as  the  Catamount  Tavern.  To  it,  after  his  thrilling  ad- 
ventures and  his  visit  to  Washington  at  Valley  Forge, 
Ethan  Allen  returned,  arriving,  as  he  further  recounts 
in  his  "Narrative,"  upon 

"the  evening  of  the  last  day  of  May  to  their  [the  Green 
Mountain  Boys']  surprise,  for  I  was  thought  to  be  dead, 
and  now  my  joy  and  theirs  was  complete.  Three  cannon 
were  fired  that  evening  and  next  morning,  Colonel  Her- 
rick  gave  orders,  and  fourteen  more  were  discharged, 
welcoming  me  to  Bennington,  my  usual  place  of  abode; 
thirteen  for  the  United  States  and  one  for  young  Vermont. 
"After  this  ceremony  was  ended,  we  moved  the  flow- 
ing bowl,  and  rural  felicity,  sweetened  with  friendship, 
glowed  in  each  countenance,  and  with  loyal  healths  to 
the  rising  States  of  America,  concluded  that  evening 
and  with  the  same  loyal  spirit,  I  now  conclude  my  nar- 
rative." 

His  friend,  Seth  Warner  (done  in  granite,  I  am  sorry 
to  say) ,  stands  upon  a  pedestal  at  the  head  of  the  avenue, 
directly  in  front  of  the  gigantic  monument  that  commem- 
orates the  Battle  of  Bennington,  a  mighty  shaft,  not, 
strictly  speaking,  a  work  of  art,  but  certainly  most  impres- 
sive, dominating  an  extended  landscape  of  great  beauty. 

Upon  the  ground  where  it  stands  there  was  a  store- 
house in  the  days  of  the  Revolution.  When  Burgoyne 
reached  Fort  Edward  his  need  of  supplies  and  horses 
became  very  acute.  On  August  6,  he  records:  "At  ten 
o'clock  this  morning,  not  quite  enough  provisions  for 
the  consumption  of  two  days."     Major  Skene,  who  ac- 

82 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

companied  him,  knew  of  this  storehouse  at  Bennington, 
and  that  in  it  were  collected  great  quantities  of  military 
supplies.  He  also  persuaded  Burgoyne  that  there  were 
many  Tories  in  the  district  who  were  only  too  anxious 
to  join  the  British  forces  if  he  would  but  send  an  expedi- 
tion in  their  direction. 

This  Burgoyne  now  resolved  to  do.  He  selected 
Colonel  Baume  to  carry  out  his  purpose,  and  sent  him 
with  about  five  hundred  men,  mostly  Hessians,  to  collect 
horses  to  mount  the  dragoons  and  to  seize  the  stores  at 
Bennington. 

Meanwhile  the  Green  Mountain  Boys  had  been  gath- 
ering to  watch  his  movements,  and  when  this  expedition 
started  out  they  hastily  organized.  John  Stark,  who 
held  no  regular  commission  in  the  American  army  at  that 
time,  was  persuaded  to  lead  them,  and  he  sent  word  to 
Seth  Warner,  at  Manchester,  asking  him  to  co-operate 
as  speedily  as  possible.  The  improvised  army  quickly 
collected  at  Bennington  and  marched  forthwith  to  meet 
Baume's  column. 

The  Hessians  had  advanced  to  within  a  few  miles  of 
Bennington,  but  when  they  heard  that  important  forces 
were  coming  out  to  meet  them  they  intrenched  them- 
selves upon  a  steep  hill  situated  in  a  bend  of  the  W  al- 
loomsac  River.  Riedesel's  dragoons  and  the  Rangers 
were  posted  upon  the  top  of  this  hill,  while  Baume's  other 
troops  took  up  positions  down  by  a  ford,  with  the  Ca- 
nadians and  Tories  thrown  out  across  the  stream  as  out- 
posts on  the  Bennington  Road. 

83 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Stark  led  his  men  to  a  spot  a  little  farther  up  the  river, 
where  a  stone  now  marks  his  camp — a  stone  graven  with 
his  well-known  words:  "There  are  the  red-coats;  and 
they  are  ours,  or  this  night  Molly  Stark  sleeps  a  widow." 
From  this  place  of  encampment,  on  the  morning  of  the 
16th  of  August,  he  led  forth  his  men.  He  sent  Colonel 
Hubbard  and  Colonel  Stickney  against  the  troops  sta- 
tioned at  the  ford ;  Colonel  Herrick  marched  his  regiment 
around  to  the  back  of  the  hill;  Colonel  Nichols  was  sta- 
tioned to  the  east,  while  Stark  reserved  for  himself  the 
main  assault  up  the  steep  declivity.  All  the  attacks 
were  delivered  with  precision  and  exceeding  vigor.  The 
British  outposts  were  forced  in  and  driven  up  the  hill 
until  the  various  American  regiments,  uniting  from  all 
sides  at  once,  stormed  the  breastworks  on  the  top  with 
conspicuous  gallantry.  Though  Baume's  picked  troops 
were  stationed  here,  they  were  soon  overcome  and  Baume 
himself  mortally  wounded. 

Stark,  in  his  report  to  the  Council  of  New  Hampshire, 
thus  sums  up  the  further  progress  of  the  battle: 

"Our  people  behaved  with  the  greatest  spirit  and 
bravery  imaginable.  Had  they  been  Alexanders  or 
Charleses  of  Sweden  they  could  not  have  behaved  better. 

"The  action  lasted  two  hours;  at  the  expiration  of 
which  time  we  forced  their  breastworks  at  the  muzzle  of 
their  guns;  took  two  pieces  of  brass  cannon,  with  a  num- 
ber of  prisoners;  but  before  I  could  get  them  into  proper 
form  again,  I  received  intelligence  that  there  was  a  large 
reenforcement  within  two  miles  of  us,  on  the  march, 
which  occasioned  us  to  renew  our  attack;    but,  luckily 

84 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

for  us,  Colonel  Warner's  regiment  came  up,  which  put  a 
stop  to  their  career.  We  soon  rallied,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes, the  action  became  very  warm  and  desperate,  which 
lasted  until  night.  We  used  their  cannon  against  them, 
which  proved  of  great  service  to  us. 

"At  sunset,  we  obliged  them  to  retreat  a  second  time; 
we  pursued  them  till  dark,  when  I  was  obliged  to  halt 
for  fear  of  killing  our  men." 

Congress,  having  passed  over  Stark  before,  now  com- 
missioned him  a  full  brigadier-general,  and  the  State  of 
Massachusetts  voted  him  "a  complete  suit  of  clothes 
becoming  his  rank,  together  with  a  piece  of  linen." 

The  day  after  our  arrival  in  Bennington  we  set  out 
to  visit  the  battle-ground  which  lies  about  six  miles  to 
the  west  of  the  city,  near  the  town  of  North  Hoosick. 
Before  reaching  it  we  came  upon  a  sign  that  indicates 
the  site  of  the  house  to  which  Colonel  Baume  was  taken 
and  in  which  he  died.  From  a  point  just  above  this, 
where  a  power-house  stands  by  a  railway  embankment, 
you  gain,  I  think,  the  best  idea  of  the  battle-field  as  a 
whole. 

Directly  in  front  of  you  rises  the  steep  hill  upon  which 
the  dragoons  and  Rangers  were  posted  with  the  Walloom- 
sac  skirting  its  base.  From  the  other  side  of  the  em- 
bankment you  can  see  a  great  maple-tree  that  stands 
by  the  ford  which  the  Canadians  defended,  and  from  the 
top  of  the  hill  you  look  down  on  the  positions  taken  by 
the  American  militia:  Herrick  to  the  north,  Nichols  to 
the  east,  Stickney  and  Hubbard  to  the  south. 

85 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Somewhere  I  found  this  poetic  version  of  the  view 
from  this  hilltop,  penned  by  a  romantic  Hessian,  who 
escaped  capture  by  fleeing  to  the  forest  he  describes: 

"The  fields  looked  green  and  refreshed  (after  a  night 
of  rain)  the  river  was  swollen  and  tumultuous  and  the 
branches  were  all  loaded  with  dew-drops  which  glittered 
in  the  sun's  rays,  like  so  many  diamonds.  Nor  would  it 
be  easy  to  imagine  any  scene  more  rife  with  peaceful  or 
even  pastoral  beauty.  Looking  down  from  this  summit 
of  the  rising  ground,  I  beheld  immediately  beneath  me  a 
wide  sweep  of  stately  forest,  interrupted  at  remote  in- 
tervals by  green  meadows  or  yellow  cornfields,  whilst 
here  and  there,  a  cottage,  a  shed,  or  some  primitive  edi- 
fice reared  its  modest  head,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
minding the  spectator,  that  man  had  begun  his  inroads 
upon  nature,  without  as  yet  taking  away  from  her  sim- 
plicity and  grandeur." 

Except  that  the  "green  meadows  and  yellow  corn- 
fields" are  now  more  extensive  and  the  forests  of  smaller 
size  than  formerly,  his  description  of  this  view  quite  fits 
it  to-day,  and  well  conveys  the  charm  of  this  Walloomsac 
Valley.  The  battle-field,  I  hear,  has  recently  been  ac- 
quired by  the  State,  and  a  monument  is  to  be  erected 
upon  the  historic  hill  where  Stark's  New  Englanders 
made  the  first  successful  attack  of  the  war  upon  an  in- 
trenched enemy. 

His  victory,  so  complete  and  so  substantial,  was  most 
heartening  to  the  patriots  and  greatly  strengthened  their 
cause;  while  to  Rurgoyne  it  was  a  bitter  blow,  frustrat- 
ing all  his  hopes  of  replenishing  his  supplies. 

86 


Ill 

THE   MOHAWK  VALLEY 

ON  almost  the  same  day  that  saw  this  British 
expedition  defeated  at  Bennington  St.  Leger's 
column  reached  the  end  of  its  career  up  in  the 
Mohawk  Valley.  In  my  chapter  on  Ticonderoga  I  al- 
luded to  this  expedition,  explaining  that  it  was  to  invade 
New  York  State  from  the  west,  descending  by  way  of 
the  Mohawk  to  join  Burgoyne  at  Albany. 

It  had  successfully  ascended  the  St.  Lawrence  River 
to  Lake  Ontario,  crossed  that  lake,  moved  up  the  Oswego 
and  Oneida  Rivers  to  Oneida  Lake,  and  from  Sylvan 
Beach  had  made  its  way  up  Fish  Creek,  so  that  at  the 
beginning  of  August  it  was  but  a  short  portage  from  the 
Mohawk. 

On  the  Mohawk  River,  where  the  city  of  Rome  now 
stands,  was  the  principal  American  outpost  in  the  Mo- 
hawk Valley,  Fort  Stanwix.  This  fort  had  just  been 
strengthened  and  renamed,  in  honor  of  the  general  of 
the  Northern  Department,  Fort  Schuyler.  It  was  com- 
manded by  Colonel  Peter  Gansevoort,  who,  with  rein- 
forcements that  had  just  reached  him,  had  a  garrison  of 
about  a  thousand  men. 

87 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

It  is  indeed  difficult  for  the  traveller  who  journeys 
nowadays  down  the  Mohawk  Valley  in  a  Pullman  car 
to  picture  it  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  the  Revolution. 
Its  broad  fields  and  well-tilled  acres,  its  peaceful  villages 
and  thriving  towns  in  no  way  even  remotely  suggest  the 
pathless  forests  that  then  clothed  the  banks  of  the  river, 
affording  safe  hiding-places  for  the  cruel  savages  that 
infested  them — the  red  men  that  played  so  conspicuous 
a  part  in  the  Revolutionary  history  of  this  wild  district. 
In  these  forests  the  ferocious  tribesmen  depicted  by 
Fenimore  Cooper  had  free  rein  for  the  practice  of  their 
barbarous  warfare,  and  they  and  the  Tories  of  the  region, 
particularly  numerous  and  particularly  bitter,  vied  with 
each  other  in  deeds  of  cruelty. 

St.  Leger  was  taking  advantage  of  these  circumstances 
and  was  using  the  Indians  and  Tories  in  great  numbers, 
allowing  the  former  the  practice  of  their  savage  customs, 
the  unrestrained  use  of  the  scalping-knife  and  tomahawk. 

When  he  finally  left  his  boats  at  Fish  Creek  and  started 
through  the  forest  to  invest  Fort  Schuyler,  he  organized 
his  column  in  masterly  fashion.  A  diagram  of  his  plan 
of  march  was  afterward  found  among  the  papers  in  his 
writing-desk,  and  shows  his  troops  thus  ingeniously  dis- 
posed: first  came  five  files  of  Indians,  walking  singly, 
spaced  well  apart  and  flanking  the  Rritish  flag.  These 
were  led  by  Joseph  Rrant,  a  full-blooded  Mohawk,  whose 
Indian  name,  Thayendanega,  signified  strength;  a  savage 
fighter,  noted  for  his  many  cruelties,  but  so  shrewd, 
withal,  and  of  such  conspicuous  ability  that  he  held  a 

88 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

colonel's  commission  from  the  British  king.  More  than 
four  hundred  paces  behind  these  Indians  came  the  ad- 
vanced guard,  and  a  hundred  paces  behind  these  the  two 
main  columns  of  regulars,  also  in  single  file,  with  files  of 
Indians  flanking  them  to  the  right  and  left,  as  well  as 
covering  their  rear.  By  this  clever  disposition,  protected 
on  all  sides  by  a  curtain  of  redskins,  St.  Leger  was  able 
to  march  through  the  pathless  forest  without  fear  of  am- 
buscade or  surprise  of  any  kind. 

He  arrived  before  Fort  Schuyler  on  the  3d  of  August, 
with  his  strange  array  of  British  regulars,  Hessian  chas- 
seurs, Canadians,  Royal  Green  Tories,  and  warriors  from 
all  the  tribes  of  the  Six  Nations.  He  instantly  sum- 
moned the  garrison  to  surrender  under  dire  threats  of  re- 
prisal. Gansevoort  indignantly  refused,  and  sat  tight 
behind  his  breastworks.  So  St.  Leger  drew  in  his  lines 
and  laid  siege  to  the  fortress,  the  Indians  keeping  up  a 
hideous  howling  throughout  the  night  to  intimidate  the 
garrison. 

Meanwhile  General  Nicholas  Herkimer,  who  lived 
farther  down  the  valley  in  an  old  brick  house  still  stand- 
ing, had  called  up  the  militia  of  Try  on  County  to  organize 
and  hasten  to  the  relief  of  Fort  Schuyler.  They  eagerly 
responded,  collecting  at  Fort  Dayton,  in  the  German 
Flats,  where  the  thriving  town  of  Herkimer  now  stands. 

Herkimer  sent  a  messenger  to  Gansevoort  apprising 
him  of  his  movements,  and  requesting  the  commander  of 
the  fort  to  co-operate  by  making  a  sortie  upon  his  ap- 
proach.    He    then    advanced    beyond    Utica    and    there 

89 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

awaited  the  three  signal-guns  that  were  to  tell  him  that 
his  messenger  had  arrived  in  safety  at  the  fort.  This 
messenger,  however,  was  delayed  for  a  whole  day  or  more, 
and  some  of  Herkimer's  younger  officers,  impetuous  and 
impatient,  wanted  to  move  on.  The  old  man  tried  to 
restrain  them,  but  under  their  repeated  taunts — they 
called  him  a  coward  and  a  Tory — he  finally  gave  in  and, 
against  his  own  good  judgment,  ordered  an  advance. 

St.  Leger,  informed  of  Herkimer's  approach,  sent  forth 
a  strong  column,  composed  largely  of  Tory  troops  and 
Indians,  under  Brant,  to  waylay  him  en  route  and  en- 
trap him  in  an  ambush.  For  this  purpose  Brant  selected 
a  ravine  near  Oriskany,  about  eight  miles  east  of  Fort 
Schuyler.  He  disposed  his  troops  and  his  Indians  in 
a  wide  circle,  completely  hidden  by  the  dense  woods, 
leaving  only  the  road  from  Utica  open. 

Into  this  sort  of  funnel  the  unsuspecting  Americans 
marched  on  a  dark,  sultry  morning,  crossing  the  marshy 
bottom  of  the  ravine  by  means  of  a  narrow  causeway  of 
earth  and  logs,  where  the  road  in  the  foreground  of  my 
picture  now  traverses  the  hollow.  When  the  marching 
column  was  well  within  the  trap,  Brant  gave  the  signal, 
the  circle  tightened  and  closed  in,  and  from  every  side, 
with  war-whoop,  spear,  and  tomahawk,  the  Indians 
sprang  forth,  while  the  British  troops  poured  in  a  hot 
fire  from  the  cover  of  the  woods. 

At  first  the  Americans  were  dismayed  by  this  sudden 
onslaught,  but  under  brave,  cool  Herkimer's  leadership 
they  quickly  rallied  and  desperately  defended  themselves. 

90 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

Their  general  was  soon  severely  wounded  but,  propped 
against  a  tree,  continued  to  give  his  clear,  calm  orders. 
The  Americans  now  formed  into  circles  so  as  to  face 
their  encircling  foes,  and  were  fighting  with  the  greatest 
obstinacy  and  bravery,  when  the  clouds  that  had  been 
gathering  heavily  all  morning  suddenly,  with  a  terrific 
peal  of  thunder,  broke  into  a  torrent  of  rain.  The  firing 
ceased  as  both  sides  sought  shelter  for  a  while  and  pre- 
pared for  a  second  trial  of  strength. 

Johnson's  Greens,  a  Tory  regiment  recruited  in  the 
district,  now  came  up  to  reinforce  the  British.  The 
sight  of  these  men,  many  of  whom  were  their  neighbors 


t**$ 


The  Ravine  near  Oriskany 


V 


•-*itt* 


91 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

and  erstwhile  friends,  infuriated  the  Americans  to  such  a 
degree  that,  as  soon  as  the  rain  had  ceased,  they  leaped 
upon  their  enemies  in  a  fierce  hand-to-hand  encounter, 
fighting  venomously  with  bayonets  and  knives.  The 
struggle  now  became  imbued  with  all  the  bitterness  of 
civil  warfare  and  was  one  of  the  fiercest  and,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  numbers  engaged,  the  bloodiest  of  the 
war. 

But  now  the  Indians,  seeing  many  of  their  number 
lying  prone  upon  the  ground,  while  the  patriots  still  held 
firm,  began  to  give  way  and,  yelling,  fled  to  the  woods. 
The  Tories  and  Canadians  soon  followed  their  example 
and  retreated  in  confusion,  with  the  Americans  in  hot 
pursuit.  But  the  patriots  were  too  weakened  in  num- 
bers to  push  on,  or  to  continue  their  march  to  the  fort, 
so  they,  too,  fell  back  toward  Fort  Dayton,  carrying  their 
wounded  with  them.  Among  these  was  gallant  Herkimer, 
who  died  a  few  days  later  in  his  own  house. 

During  this  battle  the  garrison  of  Fort  Schuyler  had 
made  its  sortie,  as  prearranged;  and,  though  it  succeeded 
in  capturing  much  plunder,  including  six  British  flags, 
it  failed,  of  course,  to  unite  with  the  relief  column.  St. 
Leger  now  again  demanded  a  surrender.  Gansevoort's 
answer  was  a  flat  refusal,  so  St.  Leger  began  to  push  for- 
ward his  parallels. 

Gansevoort  then  sent  messengers  to  General  Schuyler, 
asking  for  aid,  and  these,  after  many  hardships,  succeeded 
in  reaching  the  commander  at  Stillwater,  where  we  left 
him  encamped.     He  quickly  assumed  the  responsibility 

92 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

of  sending  a  relief  force,  even  at  the  risk  of  weakening  his 
own  scant  army,  and  Arnold  volunteered  to  command  it. 
Rumors  of  its  advance  and  of  its  strength,  these  latter 
exaggerated,  now  reached  St.  Leger.  The  Indians,  too, 
heard  these  reports  and  wanted  to  retreat,  so  they 

"artfully  caused  messengers  to  come  in  one  after  another, 
with  accounts  of  the  near  approach  of  the  rebels;  one 
and  the  last  affirmed  that  they  were  within  two  miles  of 
Captain  Lernoult's  post."  When  their  stories  were  not 
entirely  credited  "they  grew  furious  and  abandoned; 
seized  upon  the  officers'  liquor  and  cloaths  in  spite  of  the 
efforts  of  their  servants  and  became  more  formidable 
than  the  enemy  we  had  to  expect."  * 

Finally  they  fled  in  all  directions,  and  the  British  com- 
mander, believing  Arnold's  force  near,  suddenly  in  the 
dead  of  night  lifted  the  siege  and,  abandoning  his  artil- 
lery and  baggage,  retreated  precipitately  to  Oswego. 

Thus  the  Mohawk  Valley  expedition  met  its  fate  on 
almost  the  same  day  that  witnessed  the  British  defeat  at 
Bennington,  and  as  the  British  Annual  Register  rightly 
observes : 

"The  Americans  represented  this  affair  and  the  affair 
at  Bennington  as  great  and  glorious  victories.  Nothing 
could  excel  their  exultation  and  confidence.  Gansevoort 
and  Willet,  with  General  Stark  and  Colonel  Warner, 
who  had  commanded  at  Bennington,  were  ranked  among 
those  who  were  considered  as  the  saviours  of  their  coun- 
try." 

*  Report  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Barry  St.  Leger,  dated  Oswego,  August 
27,  1777. 

93 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

At  Oriskany  there  is  little  but  the  lay  of  the  land  to 
remind  one  of  the  savage  struggle  that  took  place  in  the 
depths  of  the  forest.  A  monument  commemorates  the 
battle,  but  the  field  whereon  it  took  place  has  lost  its 
forests,  and  is  now  rolling  country  dotted  only  here  and 
there  with  trees.  No  vestige  remains  of  Fort  Schuyler 
in  the  busy  present-day  city  of  Rome,  and  no  trace  of 
Fort  Dayton  is  to  be  found  at  Herkimer. 

Rut  the  flavor  of  these  Revolutionary  conflicts  lingers 
in  the  valley  for  him  who  will  seek  it  out.  This  is  espe- 
cially true  farther  down  near  the  thriving  town  of  Her- 
kimer, which,  as  I  have  said,  stands  upon  the  site  of  old 
Fort  Dayton,  where  Herkimer  organized  his  expedition 
for  the  relief  of  Fort  Schuyler. 

His  father,  John  Jost  Herkimer,  who  had  come  to  the 
Mohawk  Valley  from  the  Lower  Palatinate  on  the  Rhine, 
was  one  of  the  oldest  residents  of  the  German  Flats,  as 
this  district  is  called,  and  had  built  himself  a  stone 
house,  since  destroyed,  which  was  included  in  the  stock- 
aded area  of  Fort  Herkimer,  that  stood  in  a  fine  position 
on  the  south  side  of  the  river,  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
east  of  Fort  Dayton.  Also  within  these  stockades  stood 
the  old  Stone  Church  that  I  have  drawn — a  stout  edifice, 
almost  a  fortress  in  itself,  originally  but  one  story  high, 
the  masonry  about  the  windows  plainly  showing  the 
addition  to  its  walls.  It  was  built  by  the  Lutheran 
settlers  of  the  region,  and  its  services  were  always  con- 
ducted in  German. 

In  these  surroundings  the  Revolutionary  patriot  grew 

94 


It  teas  built  in  1767  and  formed 
'part  of  the  .stockade  defense  of 
Fort  Herkimer,  and  was  often 
used  as  a  place  of  refuge  from 
the  raids  of  Tories  and  Indians 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

up  and  remained  until  his  father  gave  him  "five  hundred 
acres  whereon  he  built  a  fine  residence  on  the  south  bank 
of  the  river  below  the  Little  Falls." 

Below  the  town  of  Herkimer  the  valley  narrows  and 
exchanges  its  pastoral  aspect  for  that  of  a  rugged  gorge, 
in  which  the  city  of  Little  Falls  stands  beside  the  cas- 
cades of  the  river.  From  this  place  I  found  it  was  but 
a  short  drive  to  Danube,  where  this  Herkimer  house  still 
stands,  close  by  the  south  bank  of  the  river — a  big, 
sturdy  edifice  built  of  brick  and  still  retaining  much  of 
its  old-time  character.  It  was  from  this  homestead  that 
the  brave  old  general  started  out  for  Oriskany,  and  to  it 
that  he  was  afterward  carried,  wounded,  to  die,  some 
say  through  the  carelessness  of  an  unskilled  doctor,  who 
might  have  saved  him  from  the  hemorrhage  that  killed 
him. 

He  lies  on  a  hillock  just  behind  the  house  in  a  little 
family  burying-ground.  His  grave  is  the  one  marked  with 
a  flag  in  my  drawing,  and  to  the  right  of  it  appears  the 
base  of  the  monument  erected  to  his  memory. 

A  mile  or  two  below  the  Herkimer  house  lies  Castle 
Church,  one  of  those  houses  of  worship  due  to  the 
generosity  of  Sir  William  Johnson.  In  this  mission 
church  Brant,  the  Mohawk  leader,  who  lived  near  by, 
received  his  first  lessons  from  Kirkland  and  other  mis- 
sionaries, and  here  he  was  employed  as  an  interpreter  to 
give  instruction  to  his  tribesmen.  But  at  the  beginning 
of  the  Revolution  he  espoused  the  British  cause;  all  his 
teachings  were  forgotten  and  his  innate  savagery  burst 

97 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

forth  again  as  he  led  his  fierce  warriors  upon  their  bloody 
forays  against  the  Whig  settlers  of  the  region. 

Farther  down  the  valley,  but  still  upon  the  river,  lies 
Fonda,  which  is  the  most  convenient  point  upon  the 
railroad  from  which  to  visit  Johnson  Hall. 


/dfi 


1   &£ 


General  Herkimer's  House  and  Grave 

This  great  baronial  manor  was,  up  to  the  time  of  the 
Revolution,  the  most  important  house  in  the  Province 
of  New  York  outside  of  New  York  City.  It  was  built 
by  Sir  William  Johnson  in  1760,  and  in  it  the  baronet 
lived  like  a  feudal  lord  with  his  "wives  and  concubines, 
sons  and  daughters  of  different  colors."  One  of  these 
wives  was  Mary  Brant,  sister  of  the  Mohawk  chieftain. 

Sir  William  was  handsome  and  dignified,  and  his 
haughty  manners  and  fine  speeches  so  won  the  Indians 

98 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

to  him  that  he  possessed  a  remarkable  ascendancy  over 
them,  to  which  is  largely  due  their  loyalty  to  the  British 
cause  during  the  Revolution.  He  died  in  1774,  very 
suddenly,  in  his  sixtieth  year,  and  his  funeral  was  the 


Castle  Church,  near  Danube 


most  elaborate  that  the  colonists  of  the  region  had  ever 
witnessed,  nearly  two  thousand  mourners,  including  all 
the  colonial  dignitaries  and  Indian  sachems,  accompany- 
ing the  funeral  procession. 

He  was  succeeded  in  his  lands  and  titles  by  his  son,  Sir 
John,  a  man  of  much  smaller  calibre,  who  fled  to  Canada 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution,  and  whose  lands  were 
then  sequestrated.     To  this  is  to  be  ascribed  his  implaca- 

99 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

ble  hatred  of  the  patriots,  as  well  as  that  of  his  friend 
Brant,  whose  enmity  toward  the  Whig  settlers  of  the 
valley  was  unrelenting. 

Johnson  Hall  has  retained  much  of  its  original  aspect. 
The  manor-house  has  been  somewhat  disfigured  by  the 
addition  of  bay  windows,  porches,  and  a  "cupola,"  but 
its  simple,  original  lines  are  still  plainly  visible.  It  is 
flanked  by  stone  blockhouses  of  very  solid  structure, 
pierced,  just  under  the  roofs,  by  loopholes  for  muskets. 
When  Sir  William  occupied  it,  the  residence  and  these 
blockhouses  were  surrounded  by  a  twelve-foot  breast- 
work, thus  constituting  a  veritable  fortress. 

After  its  sequestration  Johnson  Hall  was  owned  for 
many  years  by  successive  members  of  the  Wells  family, 
and  was  still  inhabited,  when  I  was  last  there,  by  a  mem- 
ber of  that  family.  On  the  stair  rail  in  the  hall  are  regular 
marks,  cut  with  a  hatchet,  which  are  said  to  have  been 
made  by  Brant  as  a  signal  to  the  Indians  neither  to  pil- 
lage nor  burn  the  house  of  his  friend. 

In  Johnstown,  the  nearest  township  to  the  hall,  still 
stand  the  court-house  and  the  old  stone  jail,  that  up  to 
the  time  of  the  Revolution  were  the  only  places  for  the 
administration  of  justice  west  of  Albany. 


100 


IV 
SARATOGA 

WE  left  Burgoyne  stationed  upon  the  Hudson 
at  Fort  Edward.  By  the  defeat  of  his 
Bennington  expedition,  and  the  dispersal 
of  St.  Leger's  troops  in  the  Mohawk  Valley,  the  second 
act  of  his  drama — begun  so  auspiciously  on  Lake  Cham- 
plain — was  now  ending  with  heavily  clouded  skies. 

Unfortunate  commander !  One  cannot  but  pity  him 
—this  high-strung  soldier-poet  who,  through  no  fault  of 
his  own,  saw  with  each  advance  his  line  of  communica- 
tion grow  thinner  and  weaker;  who  listened  in  vain  for 
an  encouraging  word  of  the  advance  of  General  Howe 
from  the  south — the  man  he  had  been  despatched  to 
join;  who  felt  the  toils  tightening  about  him;  who  saw 
his  own  army  dwindle  with  each  reverse,  while  his  enemy's 
grew  stronger  daily. 

For,  inspirited  by  their  victories  at  Oriskany  and  Ben- 
nington, the  militia  was  flocking  into  Schuyler's  camp 
at  Stillwater,  while  several  regiments  of  Continentals, 
despatched  from  the  Highlands,  also  joined  him.  All 
seemed  to  augur  the  success  of  his  deep-laid  plans.  At 
this  crucial  moment,  when  these  plans  seemed  upon  the 
very  point  of  fruition,  General  Schuyler — able  and  ardent 

101 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

patriot,  the  only  one  of  his  generals  for  whom  Washing- 
ton signed  himself  "your  affectionate  friend" — suddenly 
found  himself,  through  Congressional  intrigue  and  cabal, 
superseded  as  commander  of  the  Northern  Department 
by  Horatio  Gates,  the  schemer  and  ambitious  politician. 

Without  a  word  of  protest,  like  the  gentleman  he  was, 
he  handed  over  his  command  to  his  successor,  to  whom 
Congress  now  allowed  all  that  it  had  refused  to  him. 
Morgan's  famous  riflemen  were  sent  to  Stillwater,  where 
the  Americans  had  laid  out  their  camp,  and  intrenched 
it  under  Kosciusko's  direction. 

Ry  the  beginning  of  September  the  main  armies 
were  about  to  confront  each  other,  for  Rurgoyne  had  ad- 
vanced down  the  Husdon  as  far  as  Ratten  Kill  and  was 
preparing  to  cross  the  river.  Thomas  Anburey,  the 
Rritish  officer  whom  I  have  before  quoted,  writes: 

"The  bridge  of  boats  was  soon  constructed  and  thirty 
days  provisions  brought  up  for  the  whole  army.  On  the 
13th  instant,  we  passed  Hudson's  River,  and  encamped 
on  the  plains  of  Saratoga,  at  which  place  there  is  a  hand- 
some and  commodious  dwelling-house,  with  out-houses, 
an  exceeding  fine  saw  and  grist-mill,  and,  at  a  small  dis- 
tance, a  very  neat  church,  with  several  houses  round  it, 
all  of  which  are  the  property  of  General  Schuyler." 

This  collection  of  houses,  then  called  Saratoga,  now 
forms  part  of  Schuylerville,  a  town  upon  the  Hudson 
about  eleven  miles  from  Saratoga  Springs,  with  which  it 
is  connected  by  a  fine  State  road.  The  "handsome  and 
commodious    dwelling-house"    was    burned    during    the 

102 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

battle  that  ensued,  but  it  was  quickly  replaced  by  an- 
other that  still  stands  almost  hidden  by  the  trees,  just 
over  the  bridge  that  spans  the  Fishkill  near  Victory  Mills, 
where  the  stream  tumbles,  in  a  series  of  cascades,  into  the 
great,  calm  Hudson. 


The  Home  of  General  Philip  Schuyler  at  Old  Saratoga 


This  Schuyler  House,  though  still  occupied,  has  the 
air  of  a  haunted  manse.  We  had  been  informed,  before 
visiting  it,  that  no  one  was  at  home.  Yet  on  peering 
through  one  of  the  windows,  I  was  startled  to  perceive, 
hobbling  about  on  two  canes,  across  the  kitchen  floor,  an 
elderly  woman,  bent  and  feeble,  but  with  eyes  so  bright 
and  piercing,  and  a  chin  so  long  and  sharp,  as  to  recall 
some  aged  witch  of  old — a  figure  singularly  befitting  this 
house  so  fraught  with  memories. 

103 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

The  Rritish  encamped  around  this  spot,  near  the  Fish- 
kill,  on  the  14th  of  September,  1777,  and  only  a  few  miles 
of  woodland  nowT  separated  the  two  hostile  armies. 

I  present  the  following  quaint  extracts  from  the  "Jour- 
nal"' of  Elijah  Fisher,  a  native  of  Norton,  Massachusetts, 
and  later  a  member  of  Washington's  life-guard,  first,  be- 
cause it  is  a  good  summary  of  the  events  of  the  month 
that  followed,  and,  second,  because  it  is  such  a  curious 
example  of  the  orthography  of  an  American  soldier  of 
the  period: 

"Sept.  19th.  The  Enemy  made  an  at  tact  on  the  Left 
wing  of  our  army  and  the  Engagement  was  begun  at 
half  past  two  in  the  afternoon  by  Col.  Morgan's  Riflemen 
and  Lite  Infmtry —  .... 

"  Oct.  1th.  We  had  the  secent  Engagement  begun  at  one 
in  the  afternoon  and  the  Enemy  got  wosted  and  our 
army  Drove  them  and  took  Gen.  Rergoine's  adecamp 
and  the  General's  Doctor  and  five  hundred  tents  and 
five  hundred  Prisoners  officers  and  solgers  and  Drove  the 
others.  .  .  . 

"The  8th.  The  next  Day  Gen.  Gates  gave  the  Enemy 
three  Days  to  git  off  with  themselves.  .  .  . 

"  The  11th.  Gen  Rurgoin  and  his  howl  army  surrendered 
themselves  Prisoners  of  Ware  and  Come  to  Captelate 
with  our  army  and  Gen.  Gates." 

Such  is  an  abstract  of  the  Rattles  of  Saratoga.  Now 
let  us  look  at  them  in  more  detail,  and  visit  the  fields 
whereon  they  took  place. 

"On  the  nineteenth  [of  September]"  says  Anburey, 
"the  army  marched  to  meet  the  enemy  in  three  divisions; 

104 


TO    THE    PLA1JNS    OF    SARATOGA 

the  German  line  flanked  the  artillery  and  baggage  pur- 
suing the  course  of  the  [Hudson]  river  through  the 
meadows;  the  British  line  marched  parallel  to  it  at  some 
distance  through  the  woods  forming  the  center  division, 
whilst  the  advanced  corps,  with  the  grenadiers  and  light 
infantry  of  the  Germans  made  a  large  circuit  through  the 
woods  and  composed  the  right  hand  division. 

"The  signal  guns  for  all  the  columns  to  advance  were 
fired  between  one  and  two  o'clock."  .  .  . 

Here  we  have  the  advance  to  the  first  battle  of  Sara- 
toga— Riedesel's  left  wing  by  the  river,  the  main  British 
column  in  the  centre,  Fraser's  advanced  corps  on  the  right. 

The  Americans  first  came  in  contact  with  Fraser's 
corps,  and  by  three  o'clock  the  main  action  was  centring 
round  Freeman's  Farm,  a  house  advantageously  placed 
upon  a  hillock.  About  it  the  battle  ebbed  and  flowed, 
eddying  back  and  forth  between  two  ravines  that  lead 
down  toward  the  river.  The  Americans  "behaved  with 
great  obstinacy  and  courage,"  says  the  Earl  Balcarras, 
their  enemy,  and  they  held  their  own  for  some  time, 
until,  at  the  critical  moment,  General  Riedesel  was  able 
to  bring  his  troops  up  from  the  river  into  the  main 
action,  and  with  the  cannon  of  Captain  Pausch  (whose 
Journal,  by  the  way,  gives  us  an  excellent  description  of 
the  battle)  did  much  to  decide  the  final  issue  of  this  first 
conflict,  the  results  of  which  Anburey  thus  sums  up : 

"Just  as  the  evening  closed  in,  the  enemy  gave  way  on 
all  sides  and  left  us  masters  of  the  field,  but  darkness 
prevented  a  pursuit.  .  .  . 

105 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

"Notwithstanding  the  glory  of  the  day  remains  on 
our  side,  I  am  fearful  the  real  advantages  resulting  from 
this  hard  fought  battle  will  rest  with  the  Americans,  our 
army  being  so  much  weakened  by  this  engagement  as 
not  to  be  of  sufficient  strength  to  venture  forth  and  im- 
prove the  victory." 

Such  indeed  proved  the  case.  For  a  fortnight  or  more, 
the  two  armies  lay  watching  each  other,  like  two  giants 
preparing  for  a  death-grapple,  yet  awaiting  a  propitious 
first  hold.  Then  the  British  could  afford  to  delay  no 
longer.  To  remain  in  camp  was  to  starve.  So,  at  all 
costs,  Burgoyne  determined  to  try  to  force  his  way 
through  Gates's  army  and  reach  Albany. 

On  the  7th  of  October  he  moved  forward  again,  and  a 
second  desperate  battle  ensued  over  practically  the  same 
terrain  as  the  first  engagement.  The  Americans  at- 
tacked the  entire  British  line  as  soon  as  the  action  be- 
gan. Under  the  impact  of  their  furious  onslaughts  even 
the  British  grenadiers  wavered.  Gallant  Fraser  tried, 
for  a  long  time,  to  steady  his  men,  but,  despite  his 
efforts,  before  the  repeated  attacks  of  Morgan's  riflemen 
— those  stanch  backwoodsmen — the  British  lines  began 
to  break. 

At  this  juncture  Arnold,  who  had  had  a  quarrel  with 
Gates  and  resigned  his  commission  dashed,  like  one  in- 
toxicated, with  impetuous  fury  to  the  head  of  his  former 
troops  and,  cheered  to  the  echo,  led  them  like  a  whirl- 
wind upon  the  broken  lines  of  the  British  left.  Fraser, 
trying  to  withstand  the  shock,  was  mortally  wounded. 

106 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

Arnold,  too,  pushing  into  the  very  heart  of  Breyman's 
redoubt,  was  severely  wounded  just  as  the  battle  finished 
in  complete  victory  for  the  patriots. 

Thomas  Anburey  was  on  camp  duty  that  day,  so  saw 
nothing  of  the  battle  itself,  but  he  thus  graphically  de- 
scribes the  beginning  of  the  end,  as  his  comrades  began  to 
return : 

"Nor  can  you  conceive  the  sorrow  visible  on  every 
face  as  General  Fraser  was  brought  in  wounded,  your  old 
friends,  Campbell  and  Johnston,  of  our  regiment,  on  each 
side  of  his  horse,  supporting  him.  .  .  . 

"Early  in  the  morning  General  Fraser  breathed  his 
last  and  at  his  particular  request,  was  buried  without  any 
parade,  in  the  great  redoubt,  by  the  soldiers  of  his  own 
corps.  About  sunset  the  corpse  was  carried  up  the  hill, 
the  procession  was  in  view  of  both  armies." 

The  great  redoubt  here  mentioned  was  on  one  of  three 
mound-like  hills,  that  we  shall  soon  visit,  down  by  the 
Hudson.  The  night  of  the  second  battle  found  the  de- 
feated British  forces  compactly  collected  around  these 
hills  near  Wilbur's  Basin,  broken,  crippled,  and  laden 
with  wounded.  The  following  evening,  abandoning  al- 
most everything,  Burgoyne  retreated  in  a  heavy  rain  up 
the  river  bank  and  back  to  his  old  camp  at  Saratoga. 
But  even  there  he  was  not  safe,  for,  like  a  wild  animal 
tracked  to  its  lair,  he  was  soon  surrounded  by  vastly 
superior  forces. 

At  the  north  end  of  his  camp  stood  a  house  that  had 
always  belonged  to  the  Marshall  family.     It  still  stands 

107 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

at  the  extreme  north  end  of  Schuylerville,  quite  in  the 
open  country,  shaded  by  great  pine-trees,  and  overlook- 
ing the  placid  Hudson.  Its  exterior  has  been  modernized, 
so  I  have  chosen  to  make  a  sketch  of  the  cellar — the  very 


Cellar  in  the  Marshall  House,  Schuylerville,  which  was 
Used  as  a  Hospital  by  the  British 

one  described  by  Madame  Riedesel,  the  devoted  wife 
who  followed  her  husband,  the  German  general,  through 
this  entire  campaign  and  whose  letters  give  so  vivid  an 
account  of  her  Saratoga  experiences.  The  rafters  she 
describes,  pierced  by  cannon-balls,  can  still  be  seen,  and 
from  the  porch  you  may  look  across  the  river  and  see, 

108 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

as  she  did,  the  hills  where  the  American  soldiers  stationed 
themselves  to  fire  upon  the  house: 
I  quote  from  her  "Letters": 

"About  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  firing  of  can- 
non was  again  heard,  and  all  was  alarm  and  confusion. 
My  husband  sent  me  a  message  telling  me  to  betake  my- 
self forthwith  into  a  house  which  was  not  far  from  me. 
I  seated  myself  in  the  calash  with  my  children,  and  had 
scarcely  driven  up  to  the  house,  when  I  saw  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  Hudson  River,  five  or  six  men  with  guns, 
which  were  aimed  at  us.  Almost  involuntarily  I  threw 
the  children  on  the  bottom  of  the  calash  and  myself  over 
them.  At  the  same  instant  the  churls  fired,  and  shat- 
tered the  arm  of  a  poor  English  soldier  behind  us,  who  was 
already  wounded,  and  was  on  the  point  of  retreating  into 
the  house.  Immediately  after  our  arrival,  a  frightful 
cannonade  was  begun,  principally  directed  against  the 
house  in  which  we  had  sought  shelter,  probably  because 
the  enemy  believed,  from  seeing  so  many  people  flocking 
around  it,  that  all  the  generals  made  it  their  head- 
quarters. Alas !  it  harbored  none  but  wounded  soldiers, 
or  women ! 

"We  were  finally  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  a  cellar  in 
which  I  laid  myself  down  in  a  corner  not  far  from  the 
door.  My  children  laid  down  on  the  earth  with  their 
heads  upon  my  lap,  and  in  this  manner  we  passed  the 
entire  night.  A  horrible  stench,  the  cries  of  the  children, 
and  yet  more  than  all  this,  my  own  anguish  prevented 
me  from  closing  my  eyes. 

"On  the  following  morning  the  cannonade  began  again, 
but  from  a  different  side.  I  advised  all  to  go  out  of  the 
cellar  a  little  while,  during  which  time  I  would  have  it 

109 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

cleaned,  as  otherwise  we  should  all  be  sick.  .  .  .  After 
they  had  all  gone  out  and  left  me  alone,  I  for  the  first 
time  surveyed  our  place  of  refuge.  It  consisted  of  three 
beautiful  cellars,  splendidly  arched.  ...  I  had  just 
given  the  cellars  a  good  sweeping  and  had  fumigated  them 
by  sprinkling  vinegar  on  burning  coals  and  each  one  (the 
wounded)  had  found  his  place  prepared  for  him — when 
a  fresh  and  terrible  cannonade  threw  us  all  once  more 
into  alarm.  .  .  .  Eleven  cannon  balls  went  through  the 
house,  and  we  could  plainly  hear  them  rolling  over  our 
heads.  One  poor  soldier,  whose  leg  they  were  about  to 
amputate,  having  been  laid  upon  a  table  for  this  purpose, 
had  the  other  leg  taken  off  by  another  cannon  ball,  in 
the  very  middle  of  the  operation.  ...  I  was  more  dead 
than  alive,  though  not  so  much  on  account  of  my  own 
danger,  as  for  that  which  enveloped  my  husband,  who, 
however,  frequently  sent  to  see  how  I  was  getting  along, 
and  to  tell  me  he  was  still  safe.  ...  In  this  horrible 
situation  we  remained  six  days.  Finally*  they  spoke  of 
capitulating,  as  by  temporizing  for  so  long  a  time,  our 
retreat  had  been  cut  off.  .  .  . 

"On  the  17th  of  October  the  capitulation  was  con- 
summated. The  generals  waited  upon  the  American 
general-in-chief,  Gates,  and  the  troops  laid  down  their 
arms,  and  surrendered  themselves  prisoners  of  war.  .  .  . 

"At  last  my  husband  sent  to  me  a  groom  with  a  mes- 
sage that  I  should  come  to  him  with  our  children.  I, 
therefore,  again  seated  myself  in  my  dear  calash;  and  in 
the  passage  through  the  American  camp,  I  observed,  with 
great  satisfaction,  that  no  one  cast  at  us  scornful  glances. 
On  the  contrary,  they  all  greeted  me,  even  showing  com- 
passion on  their  countenances  at  seeing  a  mother  with 
her  little  children  in  such  a  situation.  .  .  . 

"When  I  approached  the  tents,  a  noble  looking  man 

110 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 

came  toward  me,  took  the  children  out  of  the  wagon, 
embraced  and  kissed  them,  and  then,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  helped  me  also  to  alight.  'You  tremble,'  said  he 
to  me,  'fear  nothing.'  'No,'  replied  I,  'for  you  are  so 
kind,  and  have  been  so  kind  to  my  children,  that  it  has 
inspired  me  with  courage.'  He  then  led  me  to  the  tent 
of  General  Gates,  with  whom  I  found  Generals  Burgoyne 
and  Phillips,  who  were  on  an  extremely  friendly  footing 
with  him.  Burgoyne  said  to  me,  'You  may  now  dismiss 
all  your  apprehensions,  for  your  sufferings  are  at  an 
end.'  .  .  .  All  the  generals  remained  to  dinner  with 
General  Gates.  The  man  who  had  addressed  me  so 
kindly,  came  up  and  said  to  me,  '  It  may  be  embarrassing 
to  you  to  dine  with  all  these  gentlemen;  come  now  with 
your  children  into  my  tent,  where  I  will  give  you,  it  is 
true,  a  frugal  meal,  but  one  that  will  be  accompanied  by 
the  best  of  wishes.'  'You  are  certainly,'  answered  I,  'a 
husband  and  a  father,  since  you  show  me  such  kindness.'  I 
then  learned  that  he  was  the  American  General  Schuyler." 

Schuylerville,  named  for  this  gallant  gentleman,  or 
Saratoga,  as  it  used  to  be  called,  is  a  pretty  town  ranged 
for  the  most  part  along  one  broad  thoroughfare  running 
parallel  to  the  river.  Though  haunted  with  memories 
of  the  Indian  Wars,  one  event  stands  pre-eminent  in  its 
history:  it  was  the  scene  of  Burgoyne's  surrender. 

This  important  ceremony,  by  which  the  Americans 
took  possession  of  nearly  six  thousand  prisoners,  with 
their  arms  and  accoutrements,  besides  thirty-five  pieces 
of  the  best  artillery  then  known,  took  place  down  near 
the  old  Schuyler  House,  to  which  I  have  already  alluded. 
The  troops  laid  down  their  arms  in  the  low-lying  field 

111 


REVOLUTIONARY    P  I  L  G  R I  M  AGE 

just  north  of  the  Fishkill,  and  Burgoyne  delivered  his 
sword  to  Gates  to  the  south  of  that  stream,  where  the 
commanding  general's  marquee  stood  upon  a  height. 

A  great  obelisk,  visible  far  and  near,  commemorates 
this  event — a  monument  due  to  the  incessant  labor  of  a 
group  of  patriotic  citizens  of  the  locality,  and  by  its  size 
and  costly  appearance  giving  evidence  of  their  zeal. 

To  visit  the  scene  of  the  bat  ties  we  took  the  new  State 
road  that  leads  southward  to  Mechanicsville.  As  soon  as 
we  had  passed  Quaker  Springs  we  were  on  historic  ground, 
for  here  we  began  to  follow  the  route  of  Fraser's  column 
to  their  position  in  the  first  battle.  From  here  down  to 
the  river,  that  can  be  seen  off  to  the  east,  extended  the 
lines  of  Burgoyne's  army. 

The  woods  that  then  clothed  the  rolling  hills  have 
largely  disappeared,  for  now  trees  only  follow  the  hedge- 
rows. The  battle-ground  to-day  has  a  serene,  pastoral 
aspect,  its  hillocks  dotted,  here  and  there,  with  scattered 
farms  set  in  well-tilled  fields.  To  the  east,  across  the 
Hudson,  rises  Willard's  Mountain,  whence  the  Americans 
observed  the  British  movements. 

We  soon  reached  Freeman's  Farm,  now  Brightman's, 
around  which  both  battles  raged.  Its  site  is  marked  by 
a  tablet,  and  a  small  monument  to  the  north  indicates 
the  position  of  Breyman's  Hill,  the  Hessian  redoubt, 
where  Colonel  Breyman  was  killed  and  Arnold  wounded 
in  his  last  spectacular  assault. 

Farther  down  the  road  to  the  south  you  come  upon  a 
stone  erected  to  Daniel  Morgan's  memory  by  his  great- 

112 


TO    THE    PLAINS    OF    SARATOGA 


granddaughter,  and  thus  inscribed:  "Here  Morgan,  re- 
luctant to  destroy  so  noble  a  foe,  was  forced  by  pathetic 
necessity  to  defeat  and  slay  the  gentle  and  gallant  Fraser." 
Now  a  broad  panorama  unfolds  itself  southward,  and  the 
hills  called  Bemis's  Heights  become  plainly  visible — the 
hills  upon  which  the  Americans  lay  intrenched  before 
the  battle.  As  we  approached  the  great  ravine  across 
which  both  conflicts  eddied,  we  found  a  stone  that  marked 
the  position  of  Fort  Neilson,  a  fortified  log  barn  that 
formed  the  apex  or  north  salient  of  the  American  camp. 
Just  beyond  it  another  stone,  near  a  farmhouse,  indi- 
cates the  position  of  Gates's  headquarters. 

We  then  descended  rapidly  toward  the  river  and  came 
to  the  site  of  the  old  Bemis  House  that  gave  its  name  to 
these  historic  heights. 
It  stood  near  the 
present-day  Bemis's 
Heights  Tavern,  just 
below  which  lies  the 
village  of  Stillwater. 

We  had  now 
reached  the  southern 
extremity  of  the 
battle-field.  To  com- 
plete the  circuit  you 
should  here  turn 
north  along  the  river 
and  ascend  to  Wil- 
bur's   Basin,    where 


Old  Battle  Well,  Freeman**  Farms 

113 


REVOLUTIO \ A R Y    PILGRIMAGE 

stand  the  three  hills  by  the  river,  on  one  of  which  was 
the  Great  Redoubt  where  General  Fraser  was  buried. 
John  Taylor's  house,  to  which  he  was  carried  and  in 
which  he  died,  used  to  stand  near  by.  Around  these 
three  hills,  under  the  guns  of  the  Great  Redoubt,  the  de- 
feated Rritish  army  huddled  after  the  second  battle,  and 
from  this  point  started  on  their  retreat  back  to  the  place 
of  their  first  encampment,  struggling  along  up  the  river 
in  a  driving  rain  by  way  of  Do-ve-gat,  or  Coeville,  to 
the  heights  just  north  of  Saratoga,  where  they  finally 
surrendered. 

So  ended  Burgoyne's  campaign,  begun  so  splendidly 
and  attended  with  such  brilliant  hopes.  The  third  act 
of  his  drama  was  finished  in  disaster  and  defeat,  and  the 
remnants  of  his  proud  army  marched  off  to  Cambridge 
as  prisoners  of  war. 

No  American,  I  think,  can  visit  these  plains  of  Sara- 
toga without  a  certain  thrill  of  patriotic  pleasure — pride 
in  the  courage  of  his  ancestors,  who  here  made  their  first 
great  capture  of  the  war;  humbling  an  army  of  veterans; 
lifting  the  gloom  from  Howe's  capture  of  Philadelphia; 
and  flashing  the  news  of  their  triumph  across  the  sea,  by 
swift  sailing  ship  from  Boston,  throwing  "Turgot  and  all 
Paris  into  transports  of  joy,"  and  thus  influencing  the 
French  King  himself  to  espouse  the  American  cause. 
The  surrender  at  Saratoga  was  one  of  the  most  decisive 
events  of  the  war. 


114 


DOWN   THE   HUDSON 


DOWN  THE  HUDSON 

A  FTER  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne  the  chief  actors 
/\  in  the  Saratoga  drama  set  out  for  Albany.  As 
.X  A^  there  was  some  difficulty  in  procuring  suitable 
quarters  for  the  captured  commander  and  his  military 
family  in  the  small  city  of  that  day,  General  Schuyler 
generously  offered  his  own  house  for  their  use,  and  his 
invitation  was  accepted.  "He  wrote  his  wife  to  prepare 
everything  for  giving  him  (Burgoyne)  the  best  reception 
and  his  intentions  were  perfectly  fulfilled."  * 

Of  the  arrival  of  the  party  and  of  their  stay  in  Albany 
Madame  Riedesel  has  this  to  say: 

"The  day  after  this,  we  arrived  in  Albany,  where  we 
had  so  often  longed  to  be.  But  we  came  not  as  victors ! 
We  were,  nevertheless,  received  in  the  most  friendly 
manner  by  the  good  General  Schuyler,  and  by  his  wife  and 
daughters,  who  showed  us  the  most  marked  courtesy, 
as,  also,  General  Burgoyne,  although  he  had — without 
any  necessity,  it  is  said — caused  their  magnificently  built 
houses!  to  be  burned.  .  .  .  Even  General  Burgoyne 
was  deeply  moved  at  their  magnanimity  and  said  to  Gen- 
eral Schuyler  'It  is  to  me,  who  have  done  you  so  much 
injury,  that  you  show  so  much  kindness!'  'That  is  the 
fate  of  war,'  replied  the  brave  man,  'let  us  say  no  more 

*  Marquis  de  Chastellux,  "Travels  in  North  America." 
f  At  Schuylerville  or  Saratoga. 

117 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

about  it.'     We  remained  three  days  with  them,  and  they 
acted  as  if  they  were  very  reluctant  to  let  us  go." 

The  old  Schuyler  mansion,  in  which  they  all  stayed, 
still  stands  toward  the  south  end  of  Albany,  on  a  hill 
not  very  far  from  the  river.  Until  quite  recently  it  has 
been  used  as  an  orphan  asylum,  but  the  State  has  now 
bought  it,  and  is  restoring  it  to  its  original  appearance. 
It  is  an  ample  residence,  built  of  buff  bricks  with  white 
woodwork,  and  is  finely  set  in  a  large  square  of  land, 
shaded  by  aged  chestnut-trees. 

An  octagonal  entry  that  juts  from  the  fagade  serves 
as  a  sort  of  vestibule  from  which  you  enter  at  once  a 
great  square  hall,  with  a  drawing-room  at  one  side  and 
the  dining-room  at  the  other.  Both  rooms,  with  their 
handsome  fireplaces,  recalled  to  my  mind  the  account 
given  by  de  Chastellux  of  the  visit  he  paid  to  the  house 
toward  the  close  of  the  Revolution: 

"A  handsome  house  half  way  up  the  bank,  opposite 
the  ferry,  seems  to  attract  attention  and  to  invite  strangers 
to  stop  at  General  Schuyler's  who  is  the  proprietor  as 
well  as  architect.  I  had  recommendations  to  him  from 
all  quarters,  but  particularly  from  General  Washington 
and  Mrs.  Carter.  I  had  besides  given  the  rendezvous 
to  Colonel  Hamilton  who  had  just  married  another  of 
his  daughters,  and  was  preceded  by  the  Vicomte  de 
Noailles  and  the  Comte  de  Damas  who  I  knew  were  ar- 
rived the  night  before." 

Making  his  way,  cold  and  hungry,  across  the  Hudson 
through   the  floating  ice,  he  was  wishing  he  might  be 

118 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

asked  to  share  the  proverbial  hospitality  of  General 
Schuyler,  when 

"the  first  person  we  saw  on  shore  was  the  Chevalier  de 
Mauduit  who  was  waiting  with  the  general's  sledge,  into 
which  we  quickly  stepped  and  were  conveyed  in  an  in- 
stant into  a  handsome  saloon,  near  a  good  fire,  with  Mr. 
Schuyler,  his  wife  and  daughters.  Whilst  we  were  warm- 
ing ourselves,  dinner  was  served,  to  which  every  one  did 
honor,  as  well  as  to  the  Madeira  which  was  excellent 
and  made  us  completely  forget  the  rigor  of  the  season 
and  the  fatigue  of  the  journey. 

"General  Schuyler's  family  was  composed  of  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  his  second  daughter,  who  has  a  mild  agreeable 
countenance;  of  Miss  Peggy  Schuyler,  whose  features 
are  animated  and  striking;  of  another  charming  girl, 
only  eight  years  old,  and  of  three  boys,  the  eldest  of  whom 
is  fifteen  and  are  the  handsomest  children  that  you  could 
wish  to  see." 

As  may  easily  be  imagined  the  old  Schuyler  House  is 
filled  with  memories.  Lafayette,  Steuben,  Rochainbeau, 
and  other  distinguished  foreigners,  as  well  as  most  of  the 
celebrated  Americans  of  that  day,  were,  at  one  time  or 
another,  the  general's  honored  guests.  In  it  Alexander 
Hamilton  was  married  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Schuyler,  and, 
as  de  Chastellux  tells  us,  was  living  there  at  the  time  of 
his  visit.  The  large  chambers  above  and  the  comfortable 
rooms  below  have  all  been  occupied  by  persons  of  dis- 
tinction.    In  one  of  the  latter  Burgoyne  was  lodged. 

"His  bed  was  prepared  in  a  large  room;  but,  as  he 
had  a  numerous  suite,  or  family,  several  mattresses  were 

119 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

spread  on  the  floor  for  some  of  his  officers  to  sleep  near 
him.  Mr.  Schuyler's  second  son,  a  little  spoilt  child  of 
about  seven  years  old,  very  forward  and  arch,  as  all 
American  children  are,  but  very  amiable,  was  running  all 
the  morning  about  the  house.  Opening  the  door  of  the 
saloon,  he  burst  out  a  laughing  on  seeing  all  the  English 
collected,  and  shutting  it  after  him,  cried  '  Ye  are  all  my 
prisoners:'  this  stroke  of  nature  was  cruel  and  rendered 
them  more  melancholy  than  the  preceding  evening."  * 

In  the  broad  light  of  day,  in  its  present  transitional 
stage,  the  great  house  may  lack  romance,  but  on  a  summer 
night,  when  the  shadows  of  the  chestnut  leaves  cast  their 
odd  silhouettes  upon  its  gleaming  walls  and  its  white 
roof-balustrades  glitter  against  the  starlit  sky,  the  effect 
of  the  old  manor,  half-hidden  among  its  trees,  is  magical 
and  strikingly  potent  with  suggestion,  and  the  shades  of 
its  former  occupants — the  gouty  general  and  his  distin- 
guished visitors — seem  to  walk  again  among  the  dense 
shadows  under  the  chestnut- trees.  .  .  . 

There  is  no  river  trip  in  our  country — and  few  any- 
where— that  can  excel  in  beauty  a  voyage  down  the 
Hudson  from  Albany  to  New  York. 

So,  as  New  York  is  to  be  the  theatre  of  our  next  pil- 
grimage, let  us  take  one  of  the  big  boats  that  make  the  trip 
so  delightful  and  follow  the  historic  stream  from  north  to 
south,  reviewing  on  our  way  its  memories  of  the  Revolution. 

Though  no  battle  of  any  great  consequence  was  fought 
upon  its  shores,  the  Hudson  was  always  considered  an 

*  De  Chastellux. 
120 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

artery  of  vital  importance  by  the  Revolutionary  com- 
manders, for  by  means  of  it  and  its  ferries,  communica- 
tions were  maintained  between  New  England  and  the 
Middle  States.  So  its  principal  souvenirs  form  a  tale  of 
plot  and  counterplot,  surprise  and  treason. 

There  is  not  much  to  interest  us  in  the  upper  half  of 
its  course,  though  certainly  one  will  enjoy  the  ever- 
changing  prospect  of  the  placid  water,  divided  now  and 
then  by  islands  and  framed  in  wooded  hills,  behind  which 
the  great  purple  silhouettes  of  the  Catskills  rise  quite 
near  and  prominent  to  the  westward.  We  also  pass  old 
Kingston,  settled  against  the  hills  in  its  secluded  bight 
— at  one  time  the  State  capital,  and  later  burned  by  the 
British  on  one  of  their  forays.  The  only  building  of  con- 
sequence that  survived  this  fire  is  the  stone  house  in 
which  the  State  Legislature  met  after  New  York  City  was 
captured  by  the  British,  and  in  which,  on  the  30th  of 
July,  1777,  George  Clinton  was  inaugurated  first  gov- 
ernor of  the  State. 

Below  Poughkeepsie  the  river  widens  and  begins  to 
take  on  that  lake-like  aspect  that  is  so  characteristic  of 
all  its  lower  course.  The  first  of  these  lacustral  openings 
is  Newburgh  Bay.  Fishkill  and  Newburgh  both  lie  upon 
it,  and  both  towns  hold  their  souvenirs  of  the  closing 
chapters  of  the  Revolution. 

The  Hasbrouck  House,  that  is  still  plainly  visible  from 
the  river  at  the  south  end  of  Newburgh,  was  Washington's 
principal  headquarters  during  the  last  two  years  of  the 
war.     R  stands  on  a  green  set  out  with  obsolete  cannon, 

121 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

dating  from  various  epochs,  and  seems  to  be  specially 
guarded  by  a  simple  block  of  brownstone  that  marks  the 
grave  of  Uzal  Knapp,  last  survivor  of  Washington's  life- 
guard, who  died  here  in  Newburgh  at  the  age  of  ninety- 
nine. 

At  the  northeast  corner  of  the  grounds  rises  a  massive 
Tower  of  Victory,  an  Italianate  structure  adorned  with 
bronzes,  erected  "in  commemoration  of  the  disbandment, 
under  proclamation  of  the  Continental  Congress  of 
October  18,  1783,  of  the  armies  by  whose  patriotic  and 
military  virtue  our  national  independence  and  sover- 
eignty were  established."  For  it  was  here  in  Newburgh 
that  the  army  was  finally  disbanded,  and  it  was  upon  the 
lawn  of  this  very  Hasbrouck  House  that  Washington 
took  leave  of  his  soldiers  and  subaltern  officers  before 
they  returned  to  their  homes. 

In  the  Verplanck  House,  across  the  river  in  Fishkill, 
the  officers  met  and  organized,  at  General  Knox's  sug- 
gestion, the  distinguished  Society  of  the  Cincinnati,  that 
served  to  "perpetuate  the  mutual  friendships  formed" 
and  that  still  contributes  so  much  to  keep  alive  the 
memory  of  our  patriot  forebears. 

The  interior  of  the  Hasbrouck  House — a  very  simple 
type  of  colonial  dwelling — has  a  denuded  air,  for  most 
of  its  relics  and  souvenirs  have  been  transported  to 
a  museum  that  has  recently  been  erected  adjacent  to 
it.  But  I  like  the  effect  of  its  bare,  whitewashed  rooms, 
with  their  thick  reveals  and  low-studded  ceiling  beams, 
and  the  austere  furnishings  that  suggest  the    simplicity 

122 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

of  camp  life.  The  principal  room  is  a  large  chamber 
that  boasts  seven  doors  and  but  a  single  window.  Three 
of  these  doors  lead  to  adjoining  apartments — one  to  the 
dining-room,  one  to  the  office  or  sitting-room,  and  the 
third  to  a  bedroom;  while  a  fourth  gives  upon  a  little 
Dutch  stoep  that  overlooks  the  Hudson,  commanding 
an  extensive  view  up  and  down  the  river. 

But  the  eye  quickly  focusses  upon  the  narrow  gateway 
to  the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson  that  stands  guarded  by 
Breakneck  and  Storm  King,  between  which  you  catch 
a  distant  glimpse  of  West  Point.  From  Newburgh  the 
big  day-boat  rapidly  covers  the  intervening  stretch  of 
water  to  this  North  Gate  of  the  Highlands,  and  you  enter 
at  once  the  grand  defile  that  is  the  crowning  scenic  glory 
of  the  river. 

Most  people  prefer  to  see  it  on  "a  perfect  day,"  when 
the  heavens  are  blue  and  serene,  and  it  certainly  has  its 
charms  under  these  conditions.  But  I,  for  my  voyage, 
would  unquestionably  select  a  day  when  the  clouds  hang 
low  and  heavy  about  the  mountain-tops;  when  the  deep 
purple  shadows  play  over  their  surfaces,  and  occasional 
shafts  of  sunlight  fitfully  light  a  peak,  a  crag,  or  precipice, 
or  project  a  beam  across  some  stretch  of  glittering  water, 
for  to  my  mind  the  bold  cliffs  of  the  Highlands  need  these 
effects  of  light  and  shade  to  intensify  their  dramatic 
atmosphere  and  to  suggest  the  dark  tale — in  many  ways 
the  most  tragic  of  the  Revolution — that  took  place 
among  them  and  is  indelibly  interwoven  with  their  sou- 
venirs— the  story  of  Arnold's  treason. 

123 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 


• 


The  Hudson  River  at  West  Point 


As  we  approach  West  Point  we  come  to  a  sharp  bend 
of  the  river  that  turns  under  the  northern  batteries,  and 
see  above  us,  soaring  aloft,  the  great  Victory  Monument, 
framed  by  trees,  with  the  beautiful  outline  of  the  new 
Post  Chapel  crowning  the  composition.  On  turning  this 
bend  we  realize  at  once  the  strategic  importance  of  West 
Point — always  considered  the  key  to  the  Hudson — and 
its  great  value  to  the  army  that  held  it. 

At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  it  was  defended  by  an 
elaborate  system  of  forts  and  redoubts,  and  here,  at  this 
very  bend  of  the  river,  an  enormous  chain  designed  to 
impede  navigation  up  and  down  stream  stretched  over 

124 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

to  Constitution  Island.  A  few  links  of  this  formidable 
chain  may  still  be  seen  up  on  the  Post  Parade — bits  of  a 
giant's  handiwork,  each  weighing  about  a  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds. 

General  Heath,  who  commanded  West  Point  just  after 
Arnold's  treason,  thus  describes  this  chain: 

"It  was  as  long  as  the  width  of  the  river  between 
West  Point  and  Constitution  Island,  where  it  was  fixed 
to  great  blocks  on  each  side,  and  under  the  fire  of  batteries 
on  both  sides  of  the  river.  The  links  of  the  chain  were 
probably  12  inches  wide,  and  18  inches  long;  the  iron 
about  2  inches  square.  This  heavy  chain  was  buoyed 
up  by  very  large  logs  of  perhaps  16  or  more  feet  long,  the 
chain  carried  over  them,  and  made  fast  to  each  by  staples, 
to  prevent  their  shifting;    and  there  were  a  number  of 


Paris  of  the  Great  Chain  which  was  Stretched  across  the  Hudson 
125 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

anchors  dropped  at  distances  with  cables  made  fast  to 
the  chain  to  give  it  a  greater  stability.  The  short  bend 
of  the  river  at  this  place  was  much  in  favor  of  the  chain's 
proving  effectual;  for  a  vessel,  coming  up  the  river  with 
the  fairest  wind  and  strongest  way,  must  lose  them  on 
changing  her  course  to  turn  the  point;  and  before  she 
could  get  under  any  considerable  way  again,  even  if  the 
wind  was  fair,  she  would  be  on  the  chain,  and  at  the  same 
time  under  a  heavy  shower  of  shot  and  shells."  * 

As  we  round  Gee  Point  between  the  Chain  Battery 
Walk  and  Constitution  Island,  a  superb  reach  of  the  river 
opens  out  before  us,  broken  mountain  silhouettes  lying 
one  behind  another,  heavy  and  blue,  then  growing  fainter 
and  yet  more  faint  as  they  recede  into  gray  distances. 
On  the  right  of  the  river,  rising  precipitously  from  the 
water's  edge,  tower  the  grim  walls  of  West  Point's  battle- 
mented  buildings,  stern,  rugged  structures,  harmonizing 
well  with  their  surroundings  and  with  the  purposes  for 
which  they  were  built. 

On  the  wooded  bank  opposite,  a  mile  or  two  below,  once 
stood  the  Beverley  Robinson  House,  whose  name  is  still 
perpetuated  in  Beverley  Dock — an  old  residence,  built  in 
1750,  and  a  landmark  of  the  region  until  it  was  destroyed 
by  fire  in  1892.  Historically  it  was  of  great  interest, 
for  in  it  took  place  the  chief  scenes  in  the  story  of  Arnold's 
treason. 

So,  before  we  go  further,  let  us  briefly  rehearse  this 
dark  tale,  for,  as  we  proceed  down  the  river,  we  shall  pass, 
one  after  another,  the  localities  connected  with  it. 

*  Heath's  "  Memoirs." 
126 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

In  1780  Benedict  Arnold,  then  a  major-general  in  the 
American  army,  was  appointed  commander  of  West 
Point,  and,  on  coming  to  assume  his  new  command,  had 
taken  up  his  quarters  in  the  Beverley  Robinson  House. 
He  had  expressly  solicited  this  post,  for,  even  when  he 
was  making  his  request,  he  was  contemplating  his  treason- 
ous act  and  knew  that  the  importance  of  West  Point 
would  enhance  the  price  of  his  villainy.  For  many  months 
he  had  been  carrying  on  a  correspondence,  under  the 
name  of  "Gustavus,"  with  a  "Mr.  John  Anderson,  mer- 
chant," in  New  York,  who  was  none  other  than  Major 
John  Andre,  adjutant-general  of  the  British  army. 

Finally,  negotiations  had  proceeded  to  the  point  where 
Andre  felt  that  a  personal  interview  with  Arnold  was 
necessary.  So,  on  the  18th  of  September,  1780,  he  rode 
up  the  Hudson  to  Dobbs  Ferry,  where  he  boarded  the 
Vulture,  a  British  sloop-of-war  that  lay  at  anchor  off 
Teller's  (Croton)  Point. 

A  day  or  two  later  he  was  rowed  across  the  river,  and 
landed  at  the  south  end  of  Haverstraw  Bay.  Arnold, 
meanwhile,  had  come  down  the  river  in  his  barge,  and  at 
midnight  the  two  men  met  in  a  bit  of  wood  known  as 
the  Firs,  not  far  from  Haverstraw.  Their  conference 
lasted  until  dawn,  when  together  they  passed  the  Amer- 
ican pickets  and  repaired  to  the  house  of  Joshua  Hett 
Smith,  a  Tory,  who  was  actively  aiding  the  plot. 

While  they  were  breakfasting  at  his  house  they  heard  a 
cannonade  and,  looking  out  of  the  window,  could  see  that 
a  party  of  Americans  were  firing  at  the  Vulture.     Andre 

127 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

soon  perceived,  to  his  dismay,  that  the  ship  raised  her 
anchor  and  dropped  out  of  sight  down-stream.  He  real- 
ized at  once  that,  as  he  had  no  boat,  his  escape  in  that 
quarter  was  cut  off.  But  Arnold  provided  him  with  a 
pass  through  the  American  lines,  and  Smith  fitted  him 
out  with  a  change  of  clothes,  so  that  he  could  doff  the 
British  uniform  that  he  had  worn  under  his  cloak.  This 
change  of  costume,  however,  together  with  the  fact  that 
he  was  within  the  American  lines  as  a  disguised  British 
officer,  definitely  put  him  in  the  category  of  a  spy. 

Arnold  now  returned  to  the  Beverley  Robinson  House, 
and  Andre  proceeded  on  horseback  to  King's  Ferry, 
which  he  crossed  and  was  riding  at  a  brisk  pace  down  the 
Albany  Post  Road  to  New  York,  when,  just  before  he 
entered  Tarrytown,  he  was  stopped  by  a  trio  of  militia- 
men— Paulding,  Van  Wart,  and  Williams.  His  answers 
did  not  satisfy  them  and,  in  spite  of  Arnold's  pass,  they 
searched  him,  finally  finding  in  his  stockings  important 
papers  with  which  Arnold  had  intrusted  him,  the  black- 
est kind  of  evidence  of  the  whole  treasonous  plot.  De- 
spite all  proffered  bribes  they  held  him  prisoner  and 
marched  him  off  toward  West  Point  and  General  Wash- 
ington. 

Washington  had  been  attending  a  conference  in  Hart- 
ford, and  was  expected  to  return  to  the  Robinson  House 
at  any  moment.  Arnold  was  there  awaiting  him  when 
a  messenger  arrived  with  a  despatch  telling  of  the  cap- 
ture of  a  "Mr.  John  Anderson,"  with  important  papers. 
Keeping  his  presence  of  mind,  although  he  realized  at 

128 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

once  what  had  happened,  he  hastily  bade  farewell  to  his 
wife,  and,  telling  his  officers  that  he  was  needed  at  West 
Point,  he  jumped  into  his  eight-oared  barge  and  was  rowed 
swiftly  down  the  river  under  the  protection  of  a  flag. 

Washington  duly  arrived  an  hour  or  two  later,  and  in 
a  letter  to  the  president  of  Congress,  written  the  very 
next  day,  he  thus  relates  what  happened: 

"Robinson's  House,  in  the  Highlands 

"September  26,  1780. 
"Sir, 

"I  have  the  honor  to  inform  Congress  that  I  arrived 
here  yesterday  about  twelve  o'clock  on  my  return  from 
Hartford.  Some  hours  previous  to  my  arrival  Major- 
General  Arnold  went  from  his  quarters,  which  were  this 
place,  and,  as  it  was  supposed,  over  the  river  to  the  gar- 
rison at  West  Point,  whither  I  proceeded  myself  to  visit 
the  post.  I  found  General  Arnold  had  not  been  there 
during  the  day;  and  on  my  return  to  his  quarters  he  was 
still  absent.  In  the  mean  time,  a  packet  had  arrived 
from  Lieut.-Colonel  Jameson,  announcing  the  capture  of 
a  John  Anderson,  who  was  endeavoring  to  go  to  New 
York,  with  several  interesting  and  important  papers,  all 
in  the  hand-writing  of  General  Arnold.  This  was  also 
accompanied  with  a  letter  from  the  prisoner,  avowing 
himself  to  be  Major  John  Andre,  Adjutant-General  of  the 
British  Army,  relating  the  manner  of  his  capture  and 
endeavoring  to  show  that  he  did  not  come  under  the 
description  of  a  spy. 

"From  these  circumstances,  and  information  that  the 
General  seemed  to  be  thrown  into  some  degree  of  agita- 
tion on  receiving  a  letter,  a  little  while  before  he  went 

129 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

from  his  quarters,  I  was  led  to  conclude  immediately  that 
he  had  heard  of  Major  Andre's  captivity  and  that  he 
would,  if  possible,  escape  to  the  enemy,  and  accordingly 
took  such  measures  as  appeared  the  most  probable  to 
apprehend  him.  But  he  had  embarked  in  a  barge,  and 
proceeded  down  the  river,  under  a  flag,  to  the  Vulture 
ship  of  war  which  lay  at  some  miles  below  Stony  and 
Yerplank's  Points." 

So  Arnold  reached  the  ship  in  safety,  while  Andre  was 
brought  a  captive  to  the  Robinson  House.  Washington 
refused  to  see  him,  and  after  being  confined  for  a  few 
days  in  old  Fort  Putnam,  situated  on  a  crag  above  West 
Point,  he  was  sent  for  trial  to  Tappan,  whither  we  shall 
follow  him  presently. 

From  the  parapets  of  Fort  Putnam  one  gains  a  splen- 
did view  of  the  Hudson  Highlands.  To  the  west  lie  the 
wild  hills  and  deep  ravines  of  Orange  County,  while  to 
the  east  a  superb  panorama  unfolds  itself,  from  the  North 
Gate  of  the  Highlands  to  the  South  Gate — the  river  de- 
scribing a  majestic  curve  as  it  bends  around  Constitution 
Island.  The  old  fort  has  been  restored  since  I  made  the 
accompanying  drawing,  and  its  bomb-proof  and  vaulted 
barracks  have  been  completely  rebuilt.  It  loses  some  of 
its  picturesqueness  in  consequence,  but  a  few  of  its  old 
cedars,  dark,  sinister,  whipped  by  wind  and  weather,  still 
cut  their  tragic  silhouettes  against  the  sky.  Immediately 
below  its  parapets  stands  the  new  Post  Chapel — an  en- 
during monument  to  its  gifted  architects,  Ralph  Adams 
Cram  and  Bertram  Goodhue — while,  lower  still,  the  broad 

130 


Old  Fort  Putnam,  Showing  the  Magazines 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

green  carpet  of  the  Great  Parade  stretches  out,  with  its 
trophies,  statues,  and  the  buildings  of  its  War  College. 

As  I  sat  upon  the  old  walls  thinking  and  gazing  far  out 
over  this  vast  panorama,  a  sound  of  music  suddenly 
arose  in  the  still  air,  and  I  could  hear  the  Post  Band 
playing: 

"And  the  Star-Spangled  Banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave." 

What  a  thrill  it  gave  me  perched  on  those  historic 
hillsides !  How,  despite  treason  and  the  plots  of  its 
enemies,  Old  Glory  has  triumphed,  and  how  proudly  it 
now  waves  its  quadrupled  constellation  of  stars  from  the 
tall  flagstaff  on  the  Great  Parade !  And,  as  if  in  con- 
sonance with  this  thought,  the  dark  clouds  that  had 
been  lowering  about  the  mountains  now  drifted  eastward, 
and  the  westering  sun  shot  forth  its  rays  from  behind 
them,  gilding  the  landscape  with  a  great  effulgence  and 
throwing  a  gigantic  rainbow — emblem  of  hope — upon  the 
sombre  masses  of  the  disappearing  thunder  clouds. 

Five  miles  below  West  Point  an  iron  bridge  on  the  west 
shore  marks  the  mouth  of  Poplopen  Creek.  On  the  hill 
to  the  north  of  it  you  will  notice  a  white  flagpole.  This 
is  the  site  of  Fort  Montgomery,  and  to  the  south  on  an- 
other bluff  used  to  stand  Fort  Clinton,  both  forts  being 
very  important  defenses  of  the  Highlands.  Their  effec- 
tiveness was  increased  by  a  giant  chain,  eighteen  hun- 
dred feet  long,  similar  to  the  one  at  West  Point,  that 

133 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

stretched  across  the  river  between  Fort  Montgomery  and 
Anthony's  Nose,  the  steep  pyramidal  mountain  opposite. 

While  Rurgoyne  was  in  the  midst  of  his  struggles  in 
the  north,  Sir  Henry  Clinton  made  a  diversion  up  the 
Hudson  and  delivered  a  cleverly  planned  attack  on  these 
two  forts.  He  succeeded  in  deceiving  General  Putnam, 
who  lay  at  Peekskill,  as  to  his  real  objective,  first  landing 
his  men  on  the  east  bank  of  the  river,  as  if  to  threaten 
him,  then  transferring  them  by  night  across  King's 
Ferry  to  the  west  bank,  marching  them  around  behind 
great  Dunderberg  so  as  to  fall  on  both  forts  at  once  from 
their  land  approaches.  Roth  were  but  poorly  garrisoned 
and,  after  a  short  resistance,  fell  into  his  hands. 

At  a  turn  of  the  river  below  Fort  Clinton  you  look 
between  the  crags  of  the  Dunderberg  and  Anthony's 
Nose  and  obtain  your  first  glimpse  into  Peekskill  Ray, 
with  the  town  of  Peekskill  sunning  itself  upon  a  hillside, 
resembling  in  many  respects  some  pretty  town  on  one 
of  the  Italian  lakes.  Another  swing  of  the  river,  round 
the  base  of  Thunder  Mountain,  and  a  longer  reach  of  the 
Hudson  is  disclosed. 

Stony  Point  closes  this  vista.  Across  the  narrow  pas- 
sage between  it  and  Yerplanck's  Point  opposite,  plied  the 
all-important  King's  Ferry,  one  of  the  main  lines  of  com- 
munication across  the  Hudson,  and  so  often  mentioned 
in  reports  of  the  movements  of  troops. 

In  June,  1779,  Stony  Point  had  been  seized  by  the 
Rritish,  and  its  possession  by  them  threatened  to  be  a 
grave  menace  to  Washington's  communications.     So  he 

134 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

intrusted  General  Wayne — "Mad  Anthony,"  as  he  was 
called — with  the  difficult  task  of  retaking  it.  As  you  pass 
it  on  the  boat  you  will  note  that  this  point  is  a  rocky 
promontory,  surrounded  on  almost  every  side  by  water 
and  only  connected  with  the  mainland  by  a  narrow 
causeway. 

General  Wayne  secretly  led  his  troops  by  night  to  the 
head  of  this  causeway.  They  were  guided  by  a  negro 
called  Pompey — an  ardent  patriot,  but  who  knew  the 
British  officers  well  enough  to  obtain  from  them  the 
countersign,  which,  by  a  strange  coincidence,  that  night 
was  "The  fort's  our  own."  With  the  use  of  this  pass- 
word and  the  aid  of  darkness,  Pompey  came  close  to  the 
first  sentry  on  the  causeway,  and  had  him  seized,  gagged, 
and  overpowered.  The  same  tactics  were  used  for  the 
second  sentry.     Then  the  Americans  stealthily  crossed 


Stony  Point  and  the  Medal  Awarded  to  Anthony  Wayne 

135 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

the  causeway,  single  file,  and  formed  themselves  in  two 
columns  with  unloaded  muskets  and  fixed  bayonets. 
The  two  divisions  took  opposite  sides  of  the  hill,  and 
charged  up  it  with  such  rapidity  that,  before  the  garrison 
could  recover  from  its  surprise,  they  had  met  within  the 
fort  itself  and  carried  it. 

It  was  a  brilliantly  successful  attack,  and  for  it  Congress 
awarded  a  medal  to  Anthony  Wayne,  "for  his  brave, 
prudent,  and  soldierly  conduct."  His  report  to  Wash- 
ington was  laconic  and  characteristic: 

Stoney  Point,  16th  July,  1779, 
"Dear  Gen-  2  o'clock  A.M. 

"The  fort  and  Garrison  with  Col°  Johnston  are  ours. 
Our  officers  and  men  behaved  like  men  who  are  deter- 
mined to  be  free.  <<v  .  , 

Yours  most  sincerely 

"Anty  Wayne." 

As  the  boat  passes  King's  Ferry  there  opens  before 
you  the  broad  expanse  of  Haverstraw  Bay — a  wide  sheet 
of  water  framed  by  low-lying  hills,  with  the  Verdrietig 
Range,  first  precursors  of  the  Palisades,  off  to  the  south- 
west. These  shores  of  Haverstraw  Bay  bring  us  again 
to  the  story  of  Arnold's  treason  and  the  capture  of 
Major  Andre. 

Down  at  its  far  end,  off  Teller's  Point,  the  Vulture  lay. 
From  her  Andre  was  rowed  across  the  river  and  landed 
on  the  west  bank,  at  the  foot  of  the  Long  Clove.  A  few 
miles  nearer  to  you  his  meeting  with  Arnold  took  place 
at  midnight  in  the  woods,  at  a  locality  known  as  "The 

136 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

Firs,"  and  at  dawn  on  the  22d  of  September  the  two  men 
proceeded  together,  past  the  American  pickets,  to  Joshua 
Hett  Smith's  house,  that  still  stands  on  a  ridge  known 
as  Treason  Hill,  near  West  Haverstraw — a  squarish  stone 
structure  which,  when  I  last  saw  it,  was  not  greatly 
changed  in  appearance  since  de  Chastellux  wrote  this 
description  of  it: 

"My  thoughts  were  occupied  with  Arnold  and  his 
treason,  when  my  road  brought  me  to  Smith's  famous 
house,  where  he  had  his  interview  with  Andre  and  formed 
his  horrid  plot.  It  was  in  this  house  they  passed  the 
night  together,  and  where  Andre  changed  his  clothes. 
It  was  there  that  the  liberty  of  America  was  bargained 
for  and  sold;  and  it  was  there  that  chance  .  .  .  pre- 
vented the  crime.  .  .  .  Smith  is  still  in  prison,  where 
the  law  protects  him  from  justice.  But  his  house  seems 
to  have  experienced  the  only  chastisement  of  which  it 
was  susceptible;  it  is  punished  by  solitude;  and  is  in 
fact  so  deserted,  that  there  is  not  a  single  person  to  take 
care  of  it,  although  it  is  the  mansion  of  a  large  farm." 

The  conspirators  breakfasted  together  in  the  corner 
room  at  the  southeast  angle  of  the  house,  and  it  was 
while  they  were  at  breakfast  that  they  heard  the  can- 
nonade down  the  river,  and  that  Andre,  as  I  have  stated, 
saw  the  Vulture  drop  down-stream  and  realized  that  his 
escape  by  means  of  her  had  been  cut  off. 

So,  in  the  light-blue  surtout  cloak  that  he  had  worn 
over  his  regimentals,  but  which  now  covered  a  coat 
"between  crimson  and  claret,"  and  with  a  civilian's 
round  beaver  hat  upon  his  head,  Andre  set  out  later  in 

137 


REVOLUTIONARY   PILGRIMAGE 

the  day,  with  Smith  as  his  guide,  to  make  his  way  to 
New  York  by  way  of  King's  Ferry.  They  had  crossed 
the  river  in  safety  and,  with  the  aid  of  Arnold's  pass,  had 
proceeded  almost  to  Tarry  town  when  Smith  turned  back, 
probably  thinking  that  they  had  passed  the  last  American 
lines. 

It  was  just  beyond  this  point,  as  we  have  seen,  that 
Andre,  riding  alone,  fell  in  with  the  three  militiamen,  and 
was  taken  prisoner. 

The  next  and  last  of  the  lake-like  reaches  of  the  Hud- 
son is  the  Tappan  Zee,  whose  name  is  linked  with  the 
tragic  end  of  Andre's  story.  For  it  was  to  Tappan,  off 
in  the  hills  to  the  west,  that  he  was  sent  for  trial  before 


Headquarters  at  Tappan  from  which  the  Order  for  Andre  s  Execution  was  Issued 

138 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

a  council  composed  of  the  principal  officers  of  the  Ameri- 
can army,  General  Greene  presiding. 

His  trial  took  place  in  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church  of 
the  village,  an  edifice  that  has  since  disappeared  but  has 
been  replaced  by  a  larger  one  upon  the  same  site.  This 
is  the  church  that  appears  at  the  head  of  the  village 
street,  depicted  in  my  drawing  (page  140) — a  street  that 
has  changed  but  little  in  a  hundred  years. 

When  the  board  of  officers  had  judged  him  guilty,  "to 
be  considered  as  a  spy  from  the  enemy,"  Andre  was  sent 
under  close  guard  to  a  house  near  by,  in  this  same  vil- 
lage street — a  substantial  stone  structure,  still  known  as 
the  '76  Stone  House.  It  is  now  a  tavern,  and  despite  the 
addition  of  a  "ballroom"  at  the  back,  has  retained  much 
of  its  old-time  character,  and  certainly  deserves  the  atten- 
tion of  one  of  our  patriotic  societies. 

Andre's  courage  and  deportment  during  his  trial  had 
greatly  impressed  his  judges  in  his  favor,  and  all  wished 
that  he  might  have  been  acquitted  or  exchanged  for  the 
traitor  Arnold.  But  military  law,  then  as  now,  was  in- 
flexible, and  even  his  last  touching  appeal  to  Washington 
"  to  adapt  the  mode  of  my  death  to  the  feelings  of  a  man 
of  honor,"  and  not  to  allow  him  "to  die  on  a  gibbet," 
had  to  be  denied.  So  on  the  2d  of  October,  1780,  he  was 
led  forth  to  execution. 

As  he  emerged  from  the  old  Stone  House,  "dressed  in 
his  royal  regimentals  and  boots,"  walking  arm  in  arm 
between  Ensign  Samuel  Bowman  and  Captain  John 
Hughes,  two  more  officers  stood  upon  the  stoop  and  fell 

139 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

in  with  him,  one  of  them  being  John  Van  Dyk,  who  wrote 
the  letter  to  which  I  allude  in  my  visit  to  Washington's 
headquarters  in  Morristown.  Five  hundred  troops  were 
drawn  up  in  the  village  street,  and  they,  falling  into  a 
hollow  square,  accompanied  the  slow  cortege  as  it  took 


76  Stone  House  in  which  Andre  was  Imprisoned 


its  way  toward  the  church,  turned  sharp  to  the  west  at 
the  little  triangular  green  and  followed  the  road  up  the 
hill  to  the  second  turn  beyond  the  present  railroad-track. 
Of  this  progress  from  the  prison  to  the  place  of  execu- 
tion, Doctor  Thacher  has  this  to  say: 

"I  was  so  near,  during  the  solemn  march  to  the  fatal 
spot,  as  to  observe  every  movement  and  to  participate 
in  every  emotion  the  melancholy  scene  was  calculated  to 
produce.  .  .  .  The  eyes  of  the  immense  multitude  were 
fixed  on  him  who,  rising  superior  to  the  fears  of  death, 
appeared  as  if  conscious  of  the  dignified  deportment  he 
displayed.     Not  a  murmur  or  a  sigh  ever  escaped  him, 

140 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

and  the  civilities  and  attentions  bestowed  on  him  were 
politely  acknowledged." 

The  road  all  the  way  was  lined  with  soldiery,  and  all 
the  American  officers  were  in  their  places — all  except 
Washington  and  his  staff,  whose  absence  Andre  is  said 
to  have  noted.  Of  the  various  versions  of  the  final  scene, 
Doctor  Thacher's  is  usually  quoted,  but  I  prefer  the  less 
known  one  left  us  by  Alexander  Hamilton,  because, 
though  it  gives  us  fewer  material  details,  it  contains  such 
a  fine  estimate  of  Andre's  charming  character.  It  was 
written  in  the  form  of  a  letter  to  Colonel  Laurens,  and  is 
given  in  extenso  in  the  "Life  of  Alexander  Hamilton," 
written  by  his  son. 

"Arrived  at  the  fatal  spot,  he  asked  with  some  emo- 
tion, 'must  I  then  die  in  this  manner!'  He  was  told  it 
had  been  unavoidable.  'I  am  reconciled  to  my  fate, 
(said  he)  but  not  to  the  mode.'  Soon,  however,  recollect- 
ing himself,  he  added,  'it  will  be  but  a  momentary  pang;' 
and,  springing  upon  the  cart,  performed  the  last  offices 
for  himself,  with  a  composure  that  excited  the  admiration 
and  melted  the  hearts  of  the  beholders.  Upon  being 
told  the  final  moment  was  at  hand,  and  asked  if  he  had 
anything  to  say,  he  answered,  'Nothing  but  to  request 
you  will  witness  to  the  world,  that  I  die  like  a  brave 
man.'  Among  the  extraordinary  circumstances  that  at- 
tended him,  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies,  he  died  univer- 
sally regretted  and  universally  esteemed.  .  .  . 

'There  was  something  singularly  interesting  in  the 
character  and  fortunes  of  Andre.  To  an  excellent  un- 
derstanding, well  improved  by  education  and  travel,  he 

141 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

united  a  peculiar  elegance  of  mind  and  manners,  and  the 
advantage  of  a  pleasing  person.  It  is  said,  he  possessed 
a  pretty  taste  for  the  fine  arts,  and  had  himself  attained 
some  proficiency  in  poetry,  music  and  painting.  His 
knowledge  appeared  without  ostentation,  and  embellished 
by  a  diffidence  that  rarely  accompanies  so  many  talents 

and    accomplishments 
^  which   left  you    to   sup- 

pose more  than  appeared. 
"His  sentiments  were 
elevated  and  inspired  es- 
teem;— they  had  a  soft- 
ness that  conciliated  affec- 
tion. .  .  .  The  character 
^^__  I  have  drawn  of  him,  is 

"--  drawn  partly  from  what 

Stone  Marking  the  Place  of  Andre's  I  Saw   °f  mm  myself,  and 

Execution  partly  from  information." 

Such  was  the  man  who  died  in  the  full  promise  of  his 
youth.  "His  remains  were  placed  in  an  ordinary  coffin, 
and  interred  at  the  foot  of  the  gallows;  and  the  spot  was 
consecrated  by  the  tears  of  thousands."  * 

This  spot,  upon  a  hilltop  above  Tappan,  is  now  marked 
by  a  block  of  granite  surrounded  by  a  circular  iron  rail- 
ing. When  last  I  visited  it  and  stepped  up  to  read  the 
inscription,  I  found  that,  by  a  singular  chance,  I  had 
come  to  the  place  upon  the  very  anniversary  of  his  death. 
So,  as  I  looked  about  me  at  the  surrounding  hills  and 

*  Doctor  Thacher.  Andre's  remains  were  afterward  removed  to  West- 
minster Abbey,  where  his  final  resting-place  is  marked  by  a  handsome 
monument. 

142 


DOWN    THE    HUDSON 

valleys,  I  seemed  to  behold  Nature  as  Andre  saw  her 
with  his  dying  look:  the  leaves  just  yellowing  on  the 
trees;  the  soft  quiet  of  a  day  in  early  October;  the  blue 
mists  hanging  in  the  valley  where  the  Sparkill  meanders 
past  Washington's  headquarters,  with  a  glimpse  of  the 
white  Dutch  church  steeple  nestled  snugly  among  the 
trees  of  the  village. 


143 


ABOUT   NEW  YORK 


ABOUT   NEW   YORK 

CONSIDERING  that  the  great  modern  city  of 
New  York,  like  a  giant  octopus,  growing  bigger 
year  by  year,  has  reached  out  its  tentacles  and 
spread  over  the  outlying  country  for  many  miles,  defying 
every  prediction  and  surpassing  every  dream  of  its  found- 
ers, it  seems  a  wonder  indeed  that  anything  at  all  remains 
among  its  gigantic  edifices  and  close-built  streets  to  re- 
call the  period  of  the  American  Revolution. 

Yet  such  remains  do  exist  and  a  visit  to  them,  with  a 
rehearsal  of  their  souvenirs,  will,  I  think,  prove  most  in- 
teresting. 

So  let  us  begin  our  New  York  pilgrimage  at  the  Battery, 
where  Fort  George  (originally  Fort  Amsterdam),  the  out- 
ward and  visible  sign  of  military  authority  in  Colonial 
days,  used  to  stand  upon  the  site  of  the  present  custom- 
house. It  was  a  strong  work,  and  its  guns  were  supple- 
mented by  an  important  battery  of  artillery  placed  along 
the  water-front  to  command  the  harbor — the  battery 
that  gave  its  name  to  the  promenade. 

In  front  of  Fort  George,  on  Bowling  Green,  stood  a 
big  equestrian  statue  of  the  King,  George  III,  a  cloaked 
figure,  crowned  and  mounted  on  a  prancing  horse,  and 
surrounded,  in  the  year  1771,  by  the  heavy  iron  railing 
brought  out  from  England  that  still,  despite  all  vicissi- 
tudes and  changes  in  the  neighborhood,   fences  in  the 

147 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

little  triangular  plot  of  grass.  The  ornamental  supports 
for  the  lanterns  are  still  in  place,  and  the  sharp  iron 
palings  and  the  posts  that  used  to  be  surmounted  with 


Old  Houses  on  State  Street,  New  York  City 


heads,  so  clumsy  in  workmanship  with  their  worn,  hand- 
wrought  appearance,  contrast  sharply  with  the  finely 
finished,  ornate  bronze  work  on  all  the  surrounding 
buildings. 

148 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


From  the  town  that  centred  round  Bowling  Green  one 
main  artery  led  north  through  the  island  and  that  was 
Broadway.  Number  One  upon  that  thoroughfare,  now 
a  big  office-building,  bears  a  tablet  stating  that 

Here  stood  Kennedy  House 

once  Headquarters 

of  Generals  Washington  and  Lee. 

General  Charles  Lee  used  it  upon  his  arrival  in  the  city 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war  while  he  was  inspecting  and 
putting  in  order  its  defenses.  Washington  occupied  it 
as  his  headquarters  during  most  of  the  troubled  period  of 
active  operations  which  we  shall  soon  follow  in  some  de- 
tail. Lossing  gives  a  picture  of  the  old  house  that  is 
reminiscent  of  some  of  those  that  still  front  the  Battery 
on  State  Street — houses  that  afford 
an  excellent  idea  of  the  fashionable 
residences  of  the  Revolutionary 
period.  The  tablet  might  have 
added  that  Kennedy 
House,  after  the  evacua- 
tion of  New  York  by  the 
Americans,  became  the 
headquarters  of  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  and  of  Sir  Guy 
Carleton. 

Now,  if  we  walk  up  that 

narrow^    slit,    walled    in    by        Tomb  of  Alexander 

,     '  Hamilton,  Trinity 

gigantean  structures — that      churchyard 

149 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

wonder  of  the  New  World  that  is  lower  Broadway,  we 
soon  reach  Trinity  Church,  in  whose  graveyard  sleep 
many  men  and  women  of  the  Revolution.  Near  the 
south  railing  lies  Alexander  Hamilton,  under  a  conspicu- 
ous tomb  erected  to  the  memory  of 

The  Patriot  of  Incorruptible  Integrity 

The  Soldier  of  Approved  Valour 

The  Statesman  of  Consummate  Wisdom 

as  the  epitaph  records.  In  front  of  it  is  the  plain  slab 
that  marks  his  wife's  grave — "Eliza,  daughter  of  Philip 
Schuyler" — whose  girlhood  home  we  have  just  visited  at 
Albany,  and  to  whose  courtship  I  allude  in  my  chapter 
devoted  to  Morristown. 

In  the  north  half  of  the  cemetery,  near  the  Broadway 
line,  rises  the  so-called  martyrs'  monument,  a  tall  Gothic 
memorial 

Sacred  to  the  memory  of 

Those  brave  and  good  men  who  died 

Whilst  imprisoned  in  this  city  for  their  devotion  to 

The  Cause  of  Independence. 

— the  men  who  died  in  the  Sugar  House  prison  and  were 
interred  in  Trinity  Churchyard  in  nameless  graves. 

A  few  blocks  farther  up  Broadway  stands  St.  Paul's 
Chapel,  now  toned  to  a  rich,  smoky  brown,  recalling  the 
London  churches  designed  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren  and 
retaining  more  of  its  Colonial  atmosphere  than  any 
other  edifice  in  the  city.  It  was  finished  about  ten  years 
prior  to  the  Revolution  and  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  the 

150 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


city,  fronting  the  river,  with  a  lawn  sloping  down  to  the 
water,  which  at  that  time  came  up  to  Greenwich  Street. 

Under  the  Broadway  portico  is  the  monument  erected 
in  1776,  by  order  of  Congress,  to  the  memory  of  Major- 
General  Richard  Montgomery,  who  fell  gloriously  while 
charging  the  citadel  at  Quebec,  killed  just  as  he  had 
called  to  his  men:  "Men  of  New 
York,  you  will  not  fear  to  follow 
where    your   general    leads."      In  "\ 

1818  his  remains  were  brought 
down  from  Canada  and  interred 
close  by  this  monument. 

During  the  British  oc- 
cupation   many    of    the 
leading  officers  wor- 
shipped   at    St.    Paul's, 
and  on  the  day 
of  his  inaugura- 
tion as  first  Pres- 
ident  of  the 
United   States, 
Washington 
went  to  it  to  at- 
tend divine  ser- 
vice. Thereafter  -  I!!b-^~-  -  --- 
he    attended    it                           -                     ,._-, cT 
regularly    and                              J,J^?""' 
the  double  pew 

Wherein  he  Sat  is         The  Monument  to  Montgomery,  St.  Paul's  Church 

151 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 


still  to  be  seen  in  the  left  aisle,  against  the  north  wall  of 
the  church.  Opposite  it,  in  the  right  aisle,  is  the  one 
occupied  by  the  first  American  governor  of  New  York, 
George  Clinton. 

To  Fraunces'  Tavern  and  its  associations  I  allude  in 
another  chapter. 

Now  let  us  rehearse  the  story  of  the  capture  of  New 
York  by  the  British  in  1776  and  visit  the  places  connected 
with  that  campaign. 

When  General  Howe  evacuated  Boston  in  March,  1776, 
we  saw  him  embark  his  army  and  set  sail  for  Halifax. 
There  he  remained  until  the  month  of  June,  when  he 
turned  his  attention  to  New  York,  his  object  being  to 
capture  the  chief  American  seaport  and  make  it  the  base 
of  his  future  operations. 

On  the  28th  of  June  four  fleet  frigates  suddenly  ap- 
peared off  Sandy  Hook, 
slipped  through  the  Nar- 
rows, and  dropped  anchor 
in  the  outer  harbor.  On 
board  of  one  of  them,  the 
Greyhound,  was  Howe  him- 
self, come  ahead  of  his 
forces  to  confer  with  the 
royal  governor,  Tryon,  who 
was  awaiting  him  in  the 
Lower  Bay  on  one  of  the 
King's  ships. 

On   the  following  morn- 


Washingtons  Pew,  St.  Pauls  Church 


152 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


ing  forty  sail  were  sighted  off  the  Hook,  and  within  a 
few  days  a  hundred  and  thirty  men-of-war  and  trans- 
ports lay  anchored  under  the  lee  of  Staten  Island,  where 

the    Quarantine 

Station  now  is. 
They  rapidly 
discharged  their 
troops  until  the 
green  hills  of  the 
island  were  whit- 
ened with  their 
tents. 

Washington 
had  foreseen  this 
probable  move 
of  Howe's  and 
had  done  every- 
thing he  could  to 
prepare  the  city 
for  it.  He  had 
carefully  gone 
over  the  defenses 
and  put  them  in 
the  best  order 
possible.  There  were  four  main  strategic  points  to  be 
guarded:  King's  Bridge,  at  the  extreme  north  end  of 
Manhattan  Island;  Fort  George,  at  the  Battery,  whose 
guns,  with  those  of  Paulus  Hook  on  the  Jersey  shore  op- 
posite, commanded  the  entrance  to  the  Hudson  River; 

153 


Map  of  Operations  near  New  York  City 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Governor's  Island,  that  defended  the  mouth  of  the  East 
River;  and  Rrooklyn  Heights,  which  overlook  and  com- 
mand what  was  then  New  York  City. 

But  a  distance  of  fifteen  miles  separated  King's  Bridge 
from  Brooklyn  and  two  ferries  were  necessary  to  trans- 
port troops  from  Paulus  Hook  to  the  same  locality. 
For  these  extensive  lines  of  defense  Washington  disposed 
of  scarcely  twenty  thousand  men,  many  of  them  in- 
sufficiently armed  and  equipped,  and  many  raw  recruits. 

A  few  days  after  the  arrival  of  the  British  ships  a 
messenger  from  Philadelphia  brought  tidings  of  the 
adoption  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  The 
threatening  presence  of  the  enemy's  army  down  the  bay 
and  the  hourly  expectation  of  an  attack  had  keyed  the 
people  of  the  city  to  a  high  tension.  So  that,  when  this 
news  reached  them,  their  patriotic  enthusiasm  knew  no 
bounds. 

At  six  in  the  evening,  on  the  9th  of  July,  1776,  the 
Declaration  was  read  at  the  head  of  the  army  drawn  up 
on  the  common,  where  the  present  City  Hall  stands — a 
tablet  on  its  southwest  corner  recording  that  fact.  Then 
the  populace,  joined  by  a  number  of  the  soldiers,  unable 
to  control  their  feelings  and  not  content  with  bonfires, 
tolling  bells,  and  noise  of  all  descriptions,  flocked  to 
Bowling  Green,  where  stood  the  statue  of  the  King,  and, 
with  shouts  and  jeers,  pulled  down  the  leaden  effigy  to 
melt  it  into  bullets  for  the  "cause  of  independence." 

Only  a  day  or  two  later,  toward  evening,  a  great  boom- 
ing of  cannon  from  the  fleet  down  the  bay  brought  every 

154 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 

citizen  to  some  point  of  vantage  and  every  spy-glass  in 
the  city  was  fixed  upon  the  British  vessels.  A  great 
ship-of-the-line  was  seen  standing  grandly  through  the 
Narrows  and,  as  she  passed,  she  was  greeted  by  every 
man-of-war  with  an  admiral's  salute.  A  flag  flew  at  her 
peak  and  those  of  the  watchers  who  knew  cried  out : 
"It's  the  admiral's  ship;  Lord  Howe  has  come!" 

Lord  Richard,  the  admiral,  who  thus  came  to  America 
to  take  command  of  the  combined  British  fleets,  was  the 
brother  of  Sir  William,  the  general,  and  these  two  were 
now  to  co-operate  in  putting  down  the  rebellion  in  the 
colonies  and  in  bringing  them  back  to  allegiance  to  the 
King.  The  admiral  tried  very  honestly  at  first  to  accom- 
plish this  by  peaceful  means — pardons,  treaties,  and  the 
like — but,  of  course,  failed.  Then  his  brother,  the  gen- 
eral, turned  to  sterner  measures. 

Besides  the  army  that  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
Halifax,  he  had  now  been  reinforced,  in  the  month  of 
August,  by  the  arrival  of  Clinton's  and  Cornwallis's 
commands;  by  Commodore  Hotham's  fleet  from  England, 
bringing  twenty-six  hundred  British  troops  and  eighty- 
four  hundred  Hessians;  and,  lastly,  by  Sir  Peter  Parker's 
discomfited  squadron  from  Charleston,  thus  swelling  his 
effectives  to  twenty-five  thousand  men. 

He  now  determined  to  transport  the  bulk  of  this  for- 
midable army  from  Staten  to  Long  Island  and  there  at- 
tack the  Americans  who  were  posted  upon  Brooklyn 
Heights  in  a  line  of  intrenchments  extending  from  Go- 
wanus  Cove  to  Wallabout  Bay  where  the  Brooklyn  Navy 

155 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Yard  now  is.  On  the  summit  of  the  intervening  hills, 
now  Fort  Greene  Park,  stood  the  main  redoubt,  then 
called  Fort  Putnam  but  since  renamed  Fort  Greene. 

The  British  landed  in  admirable  order  in  the  Narrows 
near  Fort  Hamilton  and  the  Hessians  were  "transported 


View  from  Old  Fort  Putnam  {now  Fort  Greene),  Brooklyn 


to  Gravesend  Cove  and  made  their  landing  with  equal 
skill."  A  long  range  of  hills  crosses  Long  Island,  extend- 
ing from  the  Narrows  toward  Jamaica — the  hills  of 
Greenwood  Cemetery,  Prospect  Park,  Flatbush,  and 
Cypress  Hills.  They  are  cut  by  four  passes  and  Howe 
proceeded  at  once  to  threaten  all  four  of  them,  sending 
one  column,  his  left,  under  General  Grant,  along  the  bay 
to  the  vicinity  of  Gowanus  Cove;  de  Heister  with  the 
Hessians,  his  centre,  to  occupy  the  two  passes  at  Flat- 

156 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 

bush;  and,  at  the  last  moment,  Lord  Percy,  with  the 
right  wing,  slipped  silently  by  night  far  around  by  what 
is  still  known  as  the  King's  Highway,  the  road  that 
passes  Flatlands  and  leads  to  the  Cypress  Hills,  return- 
ing behind  them  to  take  the  American  outposts  in  the 
rear. 

Unfortunately,  the  American  commander  in  Brooklyn, 
Nathanael  Greene,  who  knew  its  defenses  so  well,  was 
stricken  with  a  raging  fever  a  day  or  two  before  the 
battle,  and  Israel  Putnam  had  been  assigned  to  his  place. 

General  Putnam's  eyes  seem  to  have  been  too  intently 
fixed  upon  the  very  evident  advance  of  the  British  left 
wing,  so  that  when  firing  began  in  the  direction  of  Go- 
wanus  Cove,  before  daylight  on  the  22d  of  August,  he 
instantly  ordered  Lord  Stirling,  a  fine  active  officer,  "to 
stop  the  advance  of  the  enemy"  with  two  of  the  best 
American  regiments — Haslet's  Delawares  and  Small- 
wood's  Marylanders.  Stirling  obeyed  and  by  dawn  was 
in  contact  with  Grant's  advancing  column. 

General  Sullivan,  who  was  in  command  of  three  im- 
portant American  outposts  at  the  Flatbush  Pass — Battle 
Pass,  as  the  little  valley  in  Prospect  Park  that  I  have 
drawn  has  come  to  be  called — also  at  daybreak  found 
the  Hessians  under  de  Heister  in  front  of  him,  firing  upon 
his  positions  and  threatening  an  attack  in  force. 

The  firing  near  Gowanus  Cove  and  the  boom  of  de 
Heister' s  cannon  were  plainly  audible  in  New  \ork  City, 
and  Washington,  hearing  these  guns,  realized  that  a  gen- 
eral action  was  on.     He  jumped  into  his  barge,  crossed 

157 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

the  East  River,  and  galloped  to  the  Brooklyn  works  just 
in  time  to  witness  the  catastrophe  that  was  there  taking 
place. 

Sullivan  had  maintained  his  position  well,  when  the 
sudden  thunder  of  Lord  Percy's  guns  out  on  his  left,  on 
the  Jamaica  Road,  told  him  he  was  outflanked  and  in 
serious  danger  of  being  cut  off.  He  immediately  ordered 
a  retreat,  but  it  was  already  too  late.  For  as  he  re- 
tired he  met,  in  his  rear,  the  dragoons  and  light  infantry 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  Hessians  charged  upon  his 
front.  Caught  thus  between  two  fires,  driven  back  and 
forth  from  one  enemy  to  the  other,  the  Americans  fought 
gallantly  and  desperately.  But  numbers  were  against 
them.  Some  were  trampled  under  the  horses'  hoofs; 
others  furiously  bayoneted  by  the  hated  Hessians,  until 
the  narrow  pass  became  a  terrible  scene  of  slaughter.  A 
few  stragglers  managed  to  cut  their  way  through  and 
escape,  but  nearly  all  were  either  killed  or  made  prisoners; 
General  Sullivan  himself  among  the  latter. 

But  this  was  not  all;  a  worse  disaster  was  impending. 
Washington,  from  his  position  on  the  heights,  could  see 
it  coming,  but  was  powerless  to  prevent  it. 

Stirling,  who  had  been  holding  Grant's  column  in 
check,  now  also  heard  firing  in  his  rear.  He,  too,  thought 
he  could  retreat  by  fording  Gowanus  Creek,  but  upon 
retiring  toward  it  he  fell  into  Cornwallis  and  his  grena- 
diers. No  thought  of  surrender  entered  his  head,  how- 
ever, and  with  his  small  army  he  boldly  faced  the  enemy 
on  both  fronts.     A  fierce  and  desperate  battle  ensued, 

158 


£a#Ze  Pass,  Prospect  Park,  Brooklyn 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 

for  the  Marylanders  were  a  game  regiment,  largely  com- 
posed of  young  men  of  the  best  families  of  their  State. 
Lord  Stirling  animated  them  with  voice  and  example 
and  they  fought  with  such  conspicuous  gallantry  and  fire 
that  Washington,  watching  them  from  his  hilltop,  wrung 
his  hands  in  despair,  exclaiming:  "Good  God!  what 
brave  fellows  I  must  this  day  lose."  But  at  last,  pushed 
to  desperation  and  seeing  no  hope  of  escape,  Stirling  sur- 
rendered. 

In  view  of  this  defeat,  Washington  now  fully  expected 
that  Howe  would  make  an  assault  upon  his  main  line  of 
intrenchments,  but  the  British  general  decided  other- 
wise. Instead,  he  collected  his  men  out  of  range  of  mus- 
ket-shots and  encamped  for  the  night.  It  was  an  anxious 
night  for  the  Americans,  for  everything  portended  a  de- 
cisive battle  on  the  morrow,  and,  in  truth,  when  daylight 
did  come  it  revealed  the  British  army  close  at  hand.  The 
soldiers  were  already  beginning  to  throw  up  intrench- 
ments when  a  drenching  rain  drove  them  from  their  work. 

Meanwhile  reinforcements  for  the  Americans  had 
come  over  from  New  York :  Shee's  and  Magaw's  Penn- 
sylvanians — fine,  well-disciplined  troops  and  well  of- 
ficered— and  Colonel  Glover's  regiment  of  Marblehead 
fishermen,  stalwart,  hardy,  amphibious  men,  whom  we 
shall  meet  again  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware. 

On  the  morning  of  the  29th  a  dense  fog  overhung 
Long  Island.  But  a  reconnoitring  party  that  rode  out  to 
Red  Hook  saw,  through  a  rift,  the  British  fleet  bustling 
with  activity  and  they  feared  that  the  ships  might  be 

161 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

planning  to  sail  up  the  East  River  and  thus  completely 
cut  off  the  American  army  on  the  island.  So  they  hast- 
ened back  to  Washington  and  reported  what  they  had 
seen.  A  council  of  war  was  quickly  convoked  and  it  de- 
cided that  a  retreat  was  imperative  and  must  be  effected 
that  very  night. 

Here,  indeed,  was  a  stupendous  task — to  ferry  nine 
thousand  men  with  their  artillery  and  baggage  over  the 
East  River,  with  its  swirling  tides  and  eddying  currents, 
and  to  do  this  with  such  secrecy  and  in  such  silence  that 
the  enemy's  pickets,  only  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  might 
suspect  nothing  of  their  movements. 

Washington  hastily  requisitioned  every  boat  that  could 
be  found  and  collected  them  on  the  Brooklyn  side  of  the 
Fulton  Ferry,  placing  them  in  charge  of  the  men  of  Mar- 
blehead.  A  strong  northeaster  had  been  blowing  all 
day  accompanied  by  a  heavy  rain.  The  river  was  dark 
and  angry,  with  a  strong  tide  running.  The  militia  regi- 
ments were  first  embarked  but  the  wind  was  so  high  that 
even  the  Marblehead  fishermen  could  not  spread  a  close- 
reefed  sail.  So  for  three  hours  all  boats  were  rowed  with 
muffled  oars. 

But  at  midnight,  as  if  by  act  of  Providence,  the  tide 
turned,  the  wind  dropped  and  veered  to  a  gentle,  favoring 
breeze;  the  barges  could  be  loaded  to  the  gunwale  and 
their  sails  could  be  hoisted;  and  thus  the  retreat  pro- 
ceeded with  celerity.  General  Mifflin,  who,  with  the 
best  troops,  had  remained  up  in  the  trenches  till  the  last, 
now  came  down  to  the  ferry  with  his  covering  party  and 

162 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 

embarked.  Washington,  who  had  watched  all  this  time 
at  the  point  of  embarkation,  directing  the  movements  of 
the  troops,  then  crossed  the  river  in  the  very  last  boat. 

This  retreat  from  Long  Island  remains  one  of  the  out- 
standing events  of  the  war,  one  of  Washington's  great 
achievements,  for  by  it  he  saved  his  army  from  inevitable 
disaster,  rescuing  it  from  the  grip  of  a  foe  quite  double  its 
strength. 

His  stealthy  departure  was  not  discovered  until  dawn 
when,  warned  by  reports,  "Captain  Montressor,  aide-de- 
camp  of  General  Howe,  followed  by  a  handful  of  men, 
climbed  cautiously  over  the  crest  of  the  works  and  found 
them  deserted."     Howe's  prey  had  escaped. 

After  the  retreat  from  Long  Island  the  army  in  New 
York  was  reorganized,  but  the  Americans  could  scarcely 
hope  to  successfully  defend  both  sides  of  Manhattan 
Island,  whose  long  water-front  was  so  exposed  to  attack. 
During  the  first  days  of  September  the  British  advanced 
up  the  Long  Island  side  of  the  East  River  and  threw  out- 
posts as  far  as  Flushing.  Their  frigates  succeeded  in 
passing  Governor's  Island  and  ascended  the  East  River 
to  Newtown  Inlet;  so  that  the  whole  east  shore  of  Man- 
hattan was  threatened. 

Under  this  menace  the  Americans  decided  to  evacuate 
the  city,  and,  two  weeks  after  the  battle  of  Long  Island, 
Washington  began  to  remove  the  artillery  and  military 
stores  to  New  Jersey.  He  was  given  little  time  to  ac- 
complish his  purpose,  however,  for  three  British  frigates 
ascended  the  Hudson  and  anchored  near  Bloomingdale. 

163 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

On  Saturday,  the  14th  of  September,  the  bulk  of  the 
army  marched  out  of  the  city  and  up  to  Harlem,  leaving 
only  General  Putnam  with  about  four  thousand  men  to 
cover  their  retreat.  The  very  next  morning  a  heavy 
cannonading  was  heard  in  the  East  River.  Many  barges 
were  seen  to  put  out  from  Newtown  Inlet  and  crossed, 
approximately  at  the  East  34th  Street  Ferry  to  Kipp's 
Bay,  under  cover  of  the  frigates,  the  "open  flatboats 
filled  with  soldiers  standing  erect;  their  arms  all  glittering 
in  the  sunbeams." 

Some  militia  was  there  to  oppose  their  landing,  but 
they  broke  and  ran  at  the  first  sight  of  the  redcoats,  as 
Washington  himself  thus  describes: 

"At  the  first  sound  of  firing,  I  rode  with  all  possible 
dispatch  towards  the  place  of  landing,  when  to  my  sur- 
prise and  mortification,  I  found  the  troops  that  had  been 
posted  in  the  lines,  retreating  with  the  utmost  precipita- 
tion. ...  I  used  every  means  in  my  power  to  rally 
and  get  them  in  order,  but  my  attempts  were  fruitless 
and  ineffectual,  and  on  the  appearance  of  a  small  party 
of  the  enemy,  not  more  than  sixty  or  seventy  in  number, 
their  disorder  increased,  and  they  ran  away  without  firing 
a  shot." 

This  was  one  of  the  rare  occasions  upon  which  Wash- 
ington lost  his  temper,  and  his  rage  at  the  cowardly  militia 
was  unbridled  as  he  exclaimed:  "Are  these  the  men  with 
whom  I  am  to  defend  America?" 

The  British  then  marched  unopposed  across  the  island 
as  far  as  the  Inclenberg  or  Murray  Hill  and  took  up  their 

164 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


position  upon  the  high  ground  that  rises  just  above  34th 
Street,  extending  from  Lexington  to  Sixth  Avenues. 

General  Howe,  with  some  of  his  officers,  stopped  for 
refreshments  at  the  house  of  Robert  Murray,  a  wealthy 
Quaker,  whose  residence  gave  its  name  to  the  hill.  He 
happened  to  be  away,  but  his  wife  set  cakes  and  wine 
before  the  sybaritic  British  general  and  plied  him  so  as- 
siduously with  good  things  that  he  remained  quite  a  time 
in  the  house.  This  delay  gave  Putnam  and  his  rear- 
guard the  needed  opportunity  to  hasten  forward  and 
join  the  army  up  in  Harlem.  So  it  was  generally  as- 
serted that  Mrs.  Murray  saved  Putnam's  division  of  the 
army. 

Washington  now  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  house  of 
Colonel  Roger  Morris,  that  still  stands  on  Washington 
Heights  and  is  now 
better  known  as  the 
Jumel  Mansion. 

Despite  the  fact  that 
its  surroundings  are 
now  disfigured  by  a 
great  apartment-house, 
a  huge  water- tank,  and 
several  acres  of  car 
yards,  its  situation  is 
still  quite  wonderful. 
As  I  sat  with  its  genial 
and  erudite  curator  on 

the   little   porch    Under        The  Jumel  Mansion 

165 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

the  big  white  portico,  watching  the  cloud  shadows  play  over 
the  hills,  I  thought  of  the  anxious  hours  that  Washington 
must  have  passed  up  here,  scanning  the  heights  across 
the  Harlem  River  for  scouting-parties  or  watching  the 
hills  to  the  south  where  Earl  Percy's  troops  lay  encamped. 

The  handsome  house  is  now  maintained  under  the  aus- 
pices of  the  Daughters  of  the  American  Revolution,  and 
in  its  rooms  is  displayed  a  notable  collection  of  Revolu- 
tionary relics  of  all  descriptions:  portraits,  souvenirs, 
uniforms,  arms  and  ammunition,  besides  furniture  and 
old  prints.  There  are,  too,  some  of  those  curious  andirons 
of  Hessian  soldiers,  that  were  so  popular,  for  the  patriots 
loved  to  sit  and  toast  their  toes  while  they  spat  at  the 
hated  mercenaries  who  sizzled  in  reply. 

Washington's  council-chamber,  as  it  is  called,  juts  out 
at  the  back  of  the  hall — a  great  drawing-room  having 
windows  on  three  sides  and  a  fine  chimney  piece  at  its 
far  end.  In  the  hall  itself  hangs  Ercole's  large  portrait  of 
Madame  Jumel,  now  restored  to  its  original  position  after 
many  years  of  absence.  Rut  her  story,  fascinating  as  it 
is,  does  not  belong  to  our  quest,  so  we  shall  turn  from 
thoughts  of  her  to  a  rare  old  map  that  hangs  in  one  of  the 
rooms — a  map  of  the  "North  Part  of  New  York  Island, 
exhibiting  the  Plan  of  Fort  Washington,  now  Fort  Knyp- 
hausen,  with  the  rebel  lines  to  the  Southward  which  were 
forced  by  the  troops  under  the  command  of  Rt.  Honble 
Earl  Percy  on  the  16th  of  Novr.,  1776." 

The  territory  embraced  in  this  map  is  the  scene  of  our 
next  field  of  operations,  for  I  do  not  mean  to  burden  the 

166 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 

reader  with  the  minor  battles  that  intervened  between  the 
evacuation  of  New  York  City  and  the  capture  of  Fort 
Washington.  The  encouraging  encounter  on  Harlem 
Heights;  the  engagements  along  the  shore  of  the  Sound; 
the  battles  at  Chatterton  Hill  and  White  Plains  were 
among  these,  but  they  ended  with  no  material  advantage 
to  either  side.  Besides,  little  or  no  vestige  of  them  remains 
in  the  now  flourishing  suburban  towns  of  New  Rochelle, 
White  Plains,  Mamaroneck,  and  Tuckahoe. 

The  last  engagement  took  place  at  White  Plains,  and, 
after  it,  to  obviate  a  more  decisive  battle,  Washington  re- 
tired to  North  Castle  Heights  about  live  miles  above  his 
last  position.  A  day  or  two  later  Howe,  to  his  surprise, 
turned  about  and  left  him. 

"Yesterday  morning  the  enemy  made  a  sudden  and 
unexpected  movement  from  the  several  posts  they  had 
taken  in  our  front.  They  broke  up  their  whole  encamp- 
ments the  preceding  night  and  have  advanced  toward 
King's  Bridge  and  the  North  River.  The  design  of  this 
manoeuvre  is  a  matter  of  much  conjecture  and  specula- 
tion and  cannot  be  accounted  for  with  any  degree  of 
certainty.  ...  I  think  it  highly  probable  and  almost 
certain  that  he  (Howe)  will  make  a  descent  with  a  part 
of  his  troops  into  Jersey,  and  as  soon  as  I  am  satisfied  that 
the  present  manoeuvre  is  real,  and  not  a  feint,  I  shall 
use  every  means  in  my  power  to  forward  a  part  of  our 
forces  to  counteract  his  design.  I  expect  the  enemy  will 
bend  their  force  against  Fort  Washington  and  invest  it 
immediately.  From  some  advices,  it  is  an  object  that 
will  attract  their  earliest  attention."  * 

*  Washington,  in  a  letter  to  Congress. 
167 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Washington  was  right.  The  enemy  did  "bend  their 
force  against  Fort  Washington"  and  prepare  to  attack  it. 

The  north  end  of  Manhattan  Island  is  a  narrow  strip 
of  land,  high,  rocky,  and  precipitous  in  places.  The  Hud- 
son River  skirts  it  to  the  west;  the  Harlem  River  to  the 
east;  while  its  north  end  is  separated  from  the  mainland 
by  the  narrow  but  swirling  rapids  of  Spuyten  Duyvil 
Creek.  At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  but  one  tie  to  the 
mainland  existed — King's  Rridge,  in  the  locality  that 
still  retains  that  name. 

The  Americans  had  perfected  quite  an  elaborate  system 
of  fortifications  in  this  vicinity.  On  the  height  north  of 
King's  Rridge  stood  Fort  Independence,  supported  by  a 
number  of  redoubts  designated  by  numerals.  Upon 
Manhattan  Island  itself  Cock  Hill  Fort  commanded  the 
mouth  of  Spuyten  Duyvil  Creek,  and  on  the  heights 
above  it  were  Fort  George  and  Fort  Tryon.  Still  south 
of  these  the  ground  again  rises,  culminating  at  183d 
Street  in  a  bluff  that  overlooks  both  the  Hudson  and 
Harlem  Rivers.  Here,  prior  to  the  battle  of  Long  Island, 
the  Pennsylvania  troops  had  built  "a  strong  work,  in- 
tended as  a  kind  of  citadel,"  which  they  named  Fort 
W  ashington  in  honor  of  the  commander-in-chief. 

Major  Gray  don,  who  was  captured  with  it,  thus  de- 
scribes it  in  his  "Memoirs": 

"There  were  no  barracks,  or  casemates,  or  fuel  or 
water  within  the  body  of  the  place.  It  was  an  open  con- 
struction, with  ground  at  a  short  distance  on  the  back 
of  it  equally  high,  if  not  higher;  without  a  ditch  of  any 

168 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 

consequence,  if  there  was  a  ditch  at  all;  no  outworks  but 
an  incipient  one  on  the  north  not  deserving  the  appella- 
tion, or  any  of  those  exterior  multiplied  obstacles  and  de- 
fenses that,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  could  entitle  it  to  the 
name  of  fortress  in  any  degree  capable  of  sustaining  a 
siege.  It  required  no  parallels  to  approach  it;  the  citadel 
was  at  once  within  reach  of  assailants." 

About  a  mile  to  the  south  of  it  an  inner  line  of  in- 
trenchments  stretched  across  the  island  at  162d  Street, 
just  including  the  Morris  Mansion,  Washington's  head- 
quarters, within  it.  At  155th  Street  was  a  second  line 
of  intrenchments  and  at  145th  Street  an  outer  or  first 
line,  with  batteries  and  outposts  as  far  south  as  128th 
Street,  where  the  American  defenses  ended. 

This  part  of  the  city  should  be  of  especial  interest  to 
New  Yorkers,  for  upon  it  was  fought  the  only  battle  in 
the  city's  history.  Yet  how  many  of  its  citizens,  I  wonder, 
have  ever  knowingly  visited  the  site  of  Fort  W  ashington  ? 

Leaving  Broadway  at  181st  Street,  the  nearest  that  is 
cut  through,  you  climb  quite  a  hill  as  you  walk  toward 
the  river.  Soon  you  reach  Fort  Washington  Road,  a 
broad  avenue  that  leads  to  the  north,  and  at  the  top  of 
the  hill  you  will  find  a  monument,  whose  bronze  tablet 
is  thus  inscribed: 

This  Memorial  Marks  the  Site  of 

Fort  Washington 

Constructed  by  the  Continental  Troops 

in  the  Summer  of  1776. 

Erected  through  the  generosity  of  James  Gordon  Bennett 

by  the  Empire  State  Society,  Sons  of  the  American  Revolution, 

1901. 

169 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

From  this  memorial  you  gain  an  excellent  idea  of  the 
terrain  that  the  fortress  commanded.  The  vicinity  is 
not  built  over,  but  remains  quite  green  and  open,  and  its 
grassy  slopes  afford  rendezvous  for  the  mothers  of  the 
neighborhood  and  playgrounds  for  their  children.  To  the 
east  the  land  falls  away  abruptly  to  Rroadway  that  lies 
far  below  you;  to  the  north  you  overlook  the  slopes  that 
bore  Fort  George  and  Fort  Try  on;  to  the  south  lay  the 
triple  lines  of  the  American  defenses;  while  to  the  west- 
ward the  precipitous  bluffs  overlook  the  Hudson. 

Fort  Washington,  with  Fort  Lee  opposite  upon  the 
Palisades,  were  supposed  to  command  this  North  River, 
but,  despite  their  cannon  and  the  chevaux-de-frise  that 
connected  them,  British  ships  could  and  did  pass.  This 
being  the  case,  Washington  was  in  favor  of  abandoning 
Fort  Washington  altogether,  but  his  good  judgment  was 
overruled  by  some  of  his  generals. 

When  Howe  had  turned  his  back  on  him  at  White 
Plains,  Washington  had  marched  his  army  to  Tarry  town, 
crossed  to  the  Jersey  shore,  and  encamped  near  Hacken- 
sack,  keeping  in  close  touch,  however,  with  the  garrison 
he  had  left  in  Fort  Washington  under  Colonel  Magaw. 

Howe  now  prepared  to  storm  this  last  fortress  remain- 
ing in  American  hands  on  the  New  York  side  of  the  Hud- 
son. The  Hessians,  under  Knyphausen,  came  down  to 
Spuyten  Duyvil  and  were  ferried  across  to  the  lowlands 
northeast  of  Fort  Washington.  They  were  seen  as  day 
broke  and  cannonaded,  but,  splitting  into  two  columns, 
they  began  to  advance,  Knyphausen  leading  the  main 

170 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 

body  by  the  present  Kingsbridge  Road,  while  Rail  (of 
whom  we  shall  see  more  at  Trenton)  directed  his  troops 


Site  of  Fort  Washington,  Looking  toward  Fort  Lee 


against  Fort  Tryon,  fighting,  according  to  Cornwallis, 
"to  the  admiration  of  the  entire  British  army."  His 
soldiers  were  worthily  matched,  however,  by  the  Mary- 
landers,  who  held  them  at  bay  for  several  hours  until 

171 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

"at  length  they  were  obliged  to  submit  to  a  superiority 
of  numbers  and  retire  under  the  cannon  of  the  fort." 

Meanwhile  Lord  Percy  had  been  attacking  the  intrench- 
ments  to  the  south  of  the  fort  and  Colonel  Cadwalader, 
who  commanded  there,  had  been  obliged  to  withdraw  his 
men  to  the  third  or  innermost  line.  Then  the  British 
succeeded  in  crossing  the  Harlem  River  at  two  points 
and  took  Cadwalader  in  the  rear.  He  ordered  a  retreat, 
and  his  men,  in  much  confusion,  finally  reached  the  fort. 
But  there  all  was  in  disorder,  the  entire  garrison  being 
now  crowded  into  a  space  intended  for  only  one  thousand 
men.  A  flag  was  sent  in  with  a  summons  to  surrender, 
and  Colonel  Magaw,  completely  surrounded  and  feel- 
ing further  resistance  futile,  gave  up  the  fort. 

Thus  fell  Fort  Washington,  whose  loss  was  one  of  the 
severest  blows  sustained  by  the  patriots  during  the  en- 
tire war.  More  than  two  thousand  men,  besides  forty- 
three  cannon  and  a  large  quantity  of  military  stores,  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  British.  Greene,  who  had  advised 
defending  the  fort,  felt  "mad,  vexed,  sick  and  sorry,"  and 
Washington  wrote  to  Congress: 

'The  loss  of  such  a  number  of  officers  and  men,  many 
of  whom  have  been  trained  with  more  than  usual  atten- 
tion, will,  I  fear,  be  severely  felt;  but  when  that  of  the 
arms  and  accoutrements  is  added,  much  more  so;  and 
must  be  a  further  incentive  to  procure  as  considerable  a 
supply  as  possible  for  the  new  troops,  as  soon  as  it  can  be 
done." 


172 


IN   THE   JERSEYS 


IN   THE    JERSEYS 


TRENTON 

A  FTER  the  loss  of  Fort  Washington,  and  Washing- 
/_%  ton's  retirement  to  the  west  bank  of  the  Hudson, 
A  JL  Cornwallis  assumed  command  of  the  troops 
that  were  to  pursue  him  and  operate  against  him  in  New 
Jersey.  So  now  we  shall  follow  the  two  armies  into  that 
State. 

General  Greene  was  in  command  of  Fort  Lee,  situ- 
ated on  the  Palisades  almost  opposite  Fort  Washington 
and  about  where  the  Fort  Lee  Ferry  still  perpetuates  its 
name.  During  the  night  of  the  18th  of  November,  1776. 
five  thousand  British  troops  marched  up  the  Hudson, 
crossed  unseen,  near  Yonkers,  and  succeeded  in  dragging 
their  cannon  up  the  Palisades.  Greene  had  expected  no 
attack  from  that  quarter  and  had  placed  no  guard  in  that 
direction.  So  that  he  was  taken  completely  by  surprise 
and  obliged  to  evacuate  the  fort  in  the  greatest  haste, 
saving  his  garrison  but  leaving  most  of  his  baggage  and 
artillery  behind  him.  Thus  blow  after  blow  fell  upon  the 
patriots. 

Washington,  "with  the  wretched  remains  of  a  broken 
army,"  succeeded  in  covering  Greene's  retreat,  but  then 

17.5 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

fell  back  across  the  Hackensack.  The  prospects  were 
indeed  gloomy  and  the  Rritish  officers  were  writing  home: 
"Lord  Cornwallis  is  carrying  all  before  him  in  the  Jer- 
seys; peace  must  soon  be  the  consequence." 

Too  weak  to  stand  and  fight,  Washington  continued  to 
retreat  from  point  to  point.  His  rear  left  Newark  as  the 
British  advance  entered  it;  he  gained  New  Brunswick  on 
the  28th,  but  on  the  1st  of  December  was  obliged  to  move 
on,  destroying  the  Raritan  bridge  behind  him.  Then, 
with  a  scant  three  thousand  men,  he  fell  back  to  Prince- 
ton and  thence  to  Trenton. 

He  had  ordered  General  Charles  Lee  (who  was  in  the 
Highlands)  to  join  him  at  all  costs,  but  that  officer,  am- 
bitious, jealous,  and  anxious  for  the  chief  command  him- 
self, would  not  co-operate,  and  claiming  to  be  a  "general 
detached  to  make  an  important  diversion, "  led  his  troops 
off  on  his  own  account.  On  the  12th  of  December  his 
forces  hung  upon  the  British  flank  at  Vealtown — now 
fashionable  Bernardsville  (and  I  do  not  wonder  that 
they  changed  the  name) — and  he  himself  was  spending 
the  night  near  by  at  Basking  Ridge.  Next  morning,  after 
a  late  breakfast,  he  had  just  finished  a  letter  beginning, 
"My  dear  Gates — Entre  nous,  a  certain  great  man  is 
damnably  deficient,"  when  a  party  of  British  cavalry 
surrounded  the  house  and  summoned  him  to  surrender. 
Within  two  minutes  he  came  out,  pale,  unarmed,  bare- 
headed, and  begged  the  dragoons  to  spare  his  life.  They 
seized  him,  and  four  minutes  later  hustled  him  off  a 
prisoner. 

176 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

The  patriots'  only  hope  now  centred  in  Washington, 
and  that  hope  was  a  forlorn  one  indeed.  His  retreat  to 
Trenton  had  covered  a  period  of  eighteen  days,  he  hoping 
that  winter,  with  its  snows  and  impassable  roads,  would 
soon  prove  his  ally  and  definitely  impede  his  enemy. 

But  at  Trenton,  where  he  faced  about  with  the  Dela- 
ware behind  him,  he  found  that  General  Howe  had  joined 
Cornwallis  with  a  new  brigade.  Before  this  strengthened 
foe  he  was  forced  to  retreat  again,  beyond  the  river. 
This  he  accomplished  just  as  the  British  arrived  to  see  the 
last  man  over  and  to  realize  that  he  had  secured  every 
boat  for  seventy  miles  up  and  down  the  river. 

But  now  only  the  waters  of  the  Delaware  lay  between 
the  British  army  and  Philadelphia,  where  Congress  was 
holding  its  sessions.  So  imminent  did  the  danger  seem 
that  that  body  decided  to  adjourn  to  Baltimore;  which  it 
did.  Howe,  elated,  returned  to  New  York,  and  Corn- 
wallis, also  sure  of  success,  prepared  to  embark  for  Eng- 
land to  announce  that  the  rebellion  had  been  put  down. 

He  left  General  Count  von  Donop  in  command  of  the 
line  along  the  Delaware,  with  headquarters  at  Borden- 
town.  The  country  soon  felt  the  curse  of  his  Hessian 
troops.  These  had  been  promised  an  opportunity  to 
plunder  and  now  they  took  it.  I  have  before  me  a 
"Brief  Narrative  of  the  Ravages"  about  Princeton  and 
Trenton — a  long  and  pitiful  tale  of  what  we  should  now 
call  "atrocities" — a  first-hand  document,  to  which  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  refer  again. 

Yon  Donop  gave  to  Colonel  Rail  (or  Rahl,  according  to 

177 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

the  original  German  spelling)  the  command  of  the  Hes- 
sians at  Trenton.  For  twelve  days  this  officer  domineered 
the  town,  parading  his  troops  through  the  streets  with 
music,  and  spending  his  evenings  drinking  the  best  wines 
at  the  house  of  Abraham  Hunt,  at  the  corner  of  State 
and  Warren  Streets.  When  told  that  Washington  might 
attack  him,  he  cried,  "Let  them  come;  we  will  at  them 
with  the  bayonet,"  believing,  as  did  every  one,  that  the 
broad  Delaware  with  its  floating  ice  was  an  insuperable 
barrier  between  them. 

His  troops  were  comfortably  lodged  in  the  town,  for 
the  most  part  in  the  two  main  streets — King  and  Queen, 
now  Warren  and  Broad.  His  own  grenadiers  had  their 
quarters  in  the  jail,  now  a  part  of  the  Trenton  Bank, 
and  at  the  Blazing  Star  and  Bull  Head  Taverns  ad- 
joining; the  regiment  von  Lossberg,  with  some  of  the 
artillery,  occupied  the  English  church,  now  enlarged 
and  modernized  and  called  St.  Michael's;  while  the  von 
Knyphausen  regiment  occupied  the  Presbyterian  church 
and  the  houses  surrounding  it.  The  yagers  and  Tories 
were  down  in  the  old  barracks  that  we  shall  visit  pres- 
ently, and  the  British  dragoons  were  quartered  in  the 
Quaker  Meeting  House,  a  quaint,  gabled  structure,  still 
standing  in  Hanover  Street.  Thus,  well  housed  and 
well  fed,  the  Hessians  went  on  with  their  preparations 
for  a  jolly  German  Christmas. 

How  different  the  picture  across  the  river ! 

The  winter  began  with  bitter  cold  and  the  ragged 
Continentals  were  sleeping  on  the  hillsides  by  the  Dela- 

178 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

ware,  without  even  a  blanket  to  keep  them  warm.  Des- 
titute of  every  comfort  and  even  of  the  barest  necessities, 
without  shelter  of  any  kind,  they  lay  upon  the  frosty 
ground.  But,  hungry  and  cold,  like  Spartan  heroes  their 
spirits  were  equal  to  the  test. 


MSI 


p^| 


The  Point  at  Which  Washington  Crossed  the  Delaware  River 


These  slopes  by  the  Delaware  have  not  changed  much 
since  then.  In  a  few  minutes  you  may  go  by  train  from 
Trenton  out  to  Washington's  Crossing,  as  the  station  is 
now  called.  A  couple  of  modest  inns  stand  by  the  river 
which  is  spanned  by  a  bridge,  whose  wooden  superstruc- 
ture, since  I  drew  it,  has  been  replaced  by  one  of  iron. 
A  long,  narrow  island  divides  the  stream  above  it,  and 
between  this  and  the  bridge  was  McKonkey's  Ferry — 
the  scene  of  Wasliington's  Crossing  of  the  Delaware. 

179 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

On  the  New  Jersey  side  of  the  river  you  will  find  a 
simple  tablet  bearing  this  inscription: 

This  Tablet 

is  erected  by  the  Society  of  the  Cincinnati 

in  the  State  of  New  Jersey, 

to  commemorate  the  Crossing  of  the  Delaware  River  by 

General  Washington  and  the  Continental  Army 

on  Christmas  night  of 

Seventeen  Hundred  and  Seventy  Six. 

On  the  opposite  bank,  the  Pennsylvania  shore,  where 
the  little  village  of  Taylorsville  sleeps  under  the  trees, 
you  will  find  a  companion  memorial: 

Near  this  spot 

WASHINGTON 

Crossed  the  Delaware 

on  Christmas  Night,  1776, 

The  eve  of  the  Battle  of  Trenton. 

Upon  the  dedication  of  these  two  monuments  in  1895, 
General  William  S.  Stryker  delivered  the  principal  ad- 
dress, a  copy  of  which  he  gave  me  when  I  met  him  some 
years  ago  in  Trenton — an  impressive  personality  and  a 
striking  face,  attorney-general  of  the  State,  an  ardent 
patriot,  and  the  efficient  president  of  the  Trenton  Battle 
Monument  Association.  I  cannot  do  better,  I  feel,  than 
quote  from  his  oration,  the  scene  preceding  that  Christ- 
mas eve  of  1776: 

'The  night  shadows  were  creeping  over  the  woods  on 
Jericho  Hill  and  the  road  from  Neeley's  mill  to  Newtown.* 

*  Beyond  Taylorsville,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Delaware. 
180 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

In  the  doorway  of  Samuel  Merriek's  house  on  that  well- 
traveled  road  stood  a  general  officer  of  Washington's 
army,  listening  to  the  distant  ring  of  horses'  hoofs  on 
the  frozen  ground.  A  moment  later,  General  Greene's 
expected  guests  drew  rein  before  him  and  he  saluted  his 
commander-in-chief.  General  Washington  was  attended 
by  an  aide-de-camp,  the  gallant  Colonel  Baylor,  and  six 
Philadelphia  troopers  as  a  body  guard.  He  had  ridden 
over  to  be  present  on  this  Christmas  eve  at  a  council  of 
war  to  which  he  had  called  his  leading  commanders.  A 
few  moments  after  the  arrival  of  W  ashington  and  his 
guard,  a  little  group  of  officers  was  seen  dismounting  in 
the  dooryard  of  the  old  stone  house,  and  the  courtly 
Stirling,  the  best-dressed  man  in  the  army;  the  brave  and 
determined  New  Hampshire  General  Sullivan  and  the 
foreign  adventurer,  de  Fermoy,  *  were  welcomed  from  the 
doorstep  by  General  Greene.  Then,  at  short  intervals, 
came  the  experienced  soldier,  St.  Clair,  t  and  the  equally 
skilled  Stephen;  the  devoted  Virginian,  Mercer;  J  Colonel 
Sargent  of  Massachusetts,  and  the  sturdy  mariner, 
Glover.** 

"After  preparing  supper  for  General  Greene  and  his 
compatriots,  the  Merrick  family  left  the  house  to  the  ex- 
clusive use  of  the  council.  The  meal  had  just  been  an- 
nounced, when  Colonel  Stark, ft  tall  and  straight  as  an 
Indian,  and  Colonel  Knox,  the  artillerist,  were  admitted. 
The  Reverend  Doctor  Alexander  McWhorter,  of  Newark, 
pronounced  grace  at  the  supper  of  this  important  gather- 
ing of  American  military  heroes.  .  .  . 

*  Later,  commander  of  Fort  Independence,  Ticonderoga. 

f  Whom  we  met  at  Ticonderoga. 

X  Killed  soon  after  at  Princeton. 

**  Commander  of  the  men  of  Marblehead. 

ff  The  hero  of  Bennington. 

181 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

'The  Commander-in-Chief  laid  before  them  his  fully 
matured  plan,  so  ingenious  and  yet  so  simple  that  all 
who  read  can  grasp  its  military  subtlety.  To  make  the 
perilous  crossing  of  the  icy  Delaware  during  the  hours  of 
darkness;  to  creep  on  the  unwary  Hessian  foe  in  Tren- 
ton when  Christmas  wines  and  Christmas  revelry  had  re- 
laxed their  customary  vigilance  and  made  a  dull  watch; 
to  throw  them  into  helpless  confusion  by  the  suddenness 
of  the  attack,  and  by  striking  from  three  sides  at  once — 
this  was  the  plan  of  action  upon  which  Washington  had 
decided  as  a  bold  stroke  to  retrieve  his  country's  fallen 
fortunes." 

"Christmas  day,  at  night,  one  hour  before  day,"  was 
the  time  set  for  the  attack  on  Trenton. 

Early  Christmas  morning  Washington  issued  his  or- 
ders for  the  march.  Every  detail  had  been  carefully 
studied;  and  death  was  the  penalty  for  quitting  the  ranks. 
The  troops  destined  for  the  attack  were  paraded  on  the 
hill  back  of  McKonkey's  Ferry  during  the  afternoon,  and 
then  moved  toward  the  river.  At  dusk  Washington  and 
his  staff  arrived,  and  Colonel  Knox,  "with  his  stentorian 
voice,"  repeated  the  commands,  which  could  be  heard 
above  the  wind  and  the  crunching  of  the  ice. 

"When  the  boats  were  shoved  off  from  the  Pennsyl- 
vania shore  and  had  reached  the  swift  current,  the  jagged 
cakes  of  ice  struck  them  repeatedly  and  severely,  and  it 
was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  they  could  be  properly 
handled.  The  wind  was  high,  and  at  eleven  o'clock  the 
air  was  filled  with  blinding  snow.  Then  again,  as  once 
before,  over  the  East  River  after  the  battle  of  Long  Is- 

182 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

land,  and  as  he  had  promised  at  the  council  of  war,  Colonel 
John  Glover  and  his  magnificent  Marblehead  Regiment 
of  sea-faring  men  did  inestimable  service  in  guiding  the 
army  over  the  dark  and  angry  river." 

It  had  been  hoped  that  the  crossing  would  be  com- 
pleted by  midnight.  But,  as  the  Reverend  Doctor  Coo- 
ley  tells  us  in  a  communication  to  the  "State  Gazette": 

"It  was  between  3  and  4  o'clock  in  the  morning  before 
all  the  artillery  and  troops  were  over  and  ready  to  march. 
Many  of  the  men  were  very  destitute  as  regarded  cloth- 
ing. The  present  Mr.  George  Muirhead,  of  Hopewell, 
informed  the  writer  that  he  had  noticed  men  whose  pan- 
taloons were  ragged  and  who  had  neither  stockings  nor 
shoes.  The  ground  was  covered  with  sleet,  and  snow 
was  falling,  although  the  day  before  there  was  no  snow  or 
only  a  little  sprinkling  on  the  ground.  General  Washing- 
ton (who  had  sat  in  silence  on  a  bee-hive,  wrapt  in  his 
cloak,  while  his  troops  were  crossing)  as  they  were  about 
to  march,  enjoined  upon  all  profound  silence  during  their 
march  to  Trenton  and  said  to  them  '/  hope  you  will  all 
fight  like  men." 

Then  the  ragged  but  glorious  Continentals  started  on 
their  nine-mile  inarch.  Their  password  was  "Victory  or 
death."  In  the  black  night,  against  a  biting  northeaster, 
they  struggled  up  to  the  Bear  Tavern,  thence  by  the  Old 
River  Road,  through  the  hickory  woods  to  Birmingham, 
where  they  made  a  hasty  breakfast.  When  told  that  the 
priming  powder  in  the  flint-locks  was  becoming  damp, 
General  Sullivan  replied  laconically:  "Well,  boys,  we 
must  fight  them  with  the  bayonet." 

183 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

In  Trenton  the  Hessians  had  retired  heavy  with  their 
Christmas  revels.  They  maintained  six  outposts:  one  on 
the  Pennington  Road;  one  on  the  Rrunswick  Road;  two 
on  the  River  Road;  and  two  on  the  bridges  down  by  As- 
sanpink  Creek. 


Map  of  Operations  around  Trenton  and  Princeton 


At  Birmingham  Washington  split  his  army  in  two  di- 
visions. One,  under  General  Sullivan,  was  to  follow  the 
River  Road ;  the  other,  under  General  Greene,  to  go  by  the 
Pennington  Road,  Washington  himself  accompanying  the 
latter.  This  column  was  the  first  to  come  in  contact  with 
the  Hessian  pickets,  who  shouted,  "Der  Feind — Heraus ! 
Heraus!"   and  fell  back  to   spread   the   alarm.     Three 

184 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

minutes  later  Sullivan's  column  struck  the  yager  picket 
on  the  River  Road  and  the  Americans  pushed  into  the 
town  from  both  directions. 

Rail's  grenadiers  came  tumbling  out  of  their  quarters 
into  King  Street,  while  the  von  Lossberg  regiment  formed 
in  the  graveyard,  still  quaint  and  secluded,  in  the  rear  of 
the  English  church.  Colonel  Rail,  when  he  heard  all 
this  commotion,  threw  up  his  window,  opposite  the  Eng- 
lish church,  and,  though  still  muddled  with  his  wine, 
hurriedly  dressed  and,  like  the  brave  soldier  that  he  was, 
threw  himself  upon  his  horse,  galloped  to  the  head  of 
his  regiment,  and  "started  them  on  a  run  up  King  Street." 

Meanwhile  Washington  had  taken  up  his  position  on 
the  high  ground  just  back  of  where  the  monument  now 
stands,  from  which  point  of  vantage  he  could  command  a 
view  of  everything  that  was  going  on  in  the  low-built 
village  of  that  day.  From  this  same  point  Captain 
Alexander  Hamilton  opened  fire  with  his  battery  down 
King  Street,  while  Captain  Thomas  Forrest  trained  his 
guns  down  Queen  Street. 

"Captain  William  Washington*  and  Lieutenant  James 
Monroe, t  perceiving  that  the  enemy  were  endeavoring  to 
form  a  battery  in  King  Street,  near  where  the  feeder 
crosses  the  street,  rushed  forward  with  the  advance 
guard,  drove  the  artillerists  from  their  guns  and  took 
from  them  two  pieces  which  they  were  in  the  act  of  fir- 
ing. These  officers  were  both  wounded  in  this  success- 
ful enterprise."  J 

*  The  hero  of  the  Cowpens. 

f  Afterward  President  of  the  United  States. 

j  Reverend  Doctor  Cooley,  in  the  "State  Gazette." 

185 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Rail's  regiment  was  pushed  back  upon  the  von  Loss- 
berg  regiment.  At  each  turn  they  met  fresh  Continentals. 
While  Captain  Forrest's  guns  created  havoc  among  them, 
Mercer's  brigade  charged  gallantly  down  Queen  Street 
upon  their  broken  ranks.  Rrave  Rail,  whom  his  superiors 
called  the  "Hessian  Lion,"  seeing  every  avenue  of  escape 
being  cut  off,  rose  in  his  stirrups  and  shouted:  "All  who 
are  my  grenadiers,  forward!"  Just  then  he  was  struck 
by  a  bullet  and  fell  from  his  horse  in  Queen  Street,  while 
the  Continentals  pushed  his  two  disorganized  regiments 
into  an  apple  orchard  that  lay  near  the  Friends'  Meeting 
House,  where,  realizing  that  they  were  now  surrounded 
by  greatly  superior  numbers,  they  lowered  their  standards 
and  grounded  their  guns,  while  the  officers  put  their  hats 
on  the  points  of  their  swords. 

General  Stirling  rode  forward  and  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Scheffer,  then  senior  officer  of  the  Hessian  troops,  sur- 
rendered his  sword  and  his  command  to  him.  Some  of 
the  Hessians  and  most  of  the  Rritish  dragoons  escaped 
over  the  Assanpink  Creek;  others  were  able  to  join  von 
Donop  as  he  retreated  from  Rordentown,  and  a  few  more 
reached  General  Leslie  at  Princeton,  but  nearly  a  thou- 
sand men  remained  prisoners  of  war,  while  six  brass  can- 
non and  fifteen  colors  were  also  taken. 

As  one  of  his  aide-de-camps  rode  up  to  him,  Washing- 
ton exclaimed  exultantly:  "This  is  a  glorious  day  for  our 
country,  Major  Wilkinson!"     As  indeed  it  was! 

Later,  "supported  by  a  file  of  sergeants,  Rail  presented 
his  sword  to  General  Washington"  and  was  taken  to  his 

186 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

headquarters  (Stacy  Potts),  where  he  died  of  his  wounds. 
He  was  buried,  with  a  number  of  his  Hessians,  in  the  old 
Presbyterian  churchyard  on  State  Street,  their  graves 
being  now  covered  by  a  portion  of  the  new  edifice. 

Some  of  Trenton's  Revolutionary  landmarks  have  dis- 
appeared, others  have  been  remodelled,  but  enough  re- 
main to  distinguish  the  historic  spots.  To  visit  them 
you  should  begin  down  by  the  Delaware  River,  where,  in 
the  shadow  of  the  gilded  dome  of  the  State  House,  stand 
the  old  barracks,  to  which  I  have  alluded,  and  in  which 
the  yagers  were  quartered.  Built  in  1758,  they  are  now 
being  restored  to  their  original  condition  and  already  con- 
tain an  interesting  little  museum,  due  to  the  zeal  of  the 
Old  Barracks  Association,  a  group  of  patriotic  women  of 
the  community. 

You  then  walk  over  to  Warren  Street,  and  down  to  the 
Assanpink,  which,  though  hemmed  in  by  factories  and 
mills,  can  still  be  seen — a  brownish,  busy  stream,  hasten- 
ing to  join  the  Delaware.  Beyond  it  the  highway,  bor- 
dered by  old  houses,  leads  off  toward  Bordentown,  where 
von  Donop  lay. 

Now  you  follow  up  Warren  Street  (then  King)  toward 
the  great  monument  that  stands  at  its  head.  At  the 
corner  of  State  (then  Second)  Street  stood  the  house  of 
Abraham  Hunt,  where  Rail  spent  most  of  his  Christmas 
night  drinking  the  rich  merchant's  good  wine ;  and  beyond, 
opposite  Perry,  where  St.  Mary's  Cathedral  now  stands, 
were  his  headquarters,  with  the  guard-house  across  the 
way. 

187 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

At  the  end  of  Warren  Street  you  reach  the  monument, 
placed  where  the  American  artillery  stood  to  command 
both  King  and  Queen  Streets  which  here  diverge.  Re- 
yond,  to  your  left,  stretches  the  Pennington  Road,  down 
which  Washington  came — then  a  country  road  but  now 
a  wide,  paved  street. 

Upon  the  high  ground  where  the  commander-in-chief 
stood  to  direct  his  attack  the  tall  granite  column  of  the 
monument  rises,  surmounted  by  his  figure  in  bronze, 
dressed  as  Trumbull  painted  him,  one  arm  outstretched, 
pointing  down  King  Street,  directing  the  fire  of  Alex- 
ander Hamilton's  battery;  the  other  hand  holding  his 
field-glass.     At  the  east  side  of  the  doorway  in  the  base 


Old  King  Street  {now  Warren  Street),  Trenton 

188 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

of  the  monument,  his  legs  wide  apart,  stands  a  trooper 
of  the  Philadelphia  Light  Horse  in  his  picturesque  uni- 
form, feeling  the  edge  of  his  sword.  At  the  west  side  a 
Continental  soldier,  a  member  of  Colonel  Glover's  regi- 
ment, one  of  those  "fishermen  of  Marblehead,"  to  quote 
General  Knox  in  his  speech  to  the  Massachusetts  legisla- 
ture, "alike  at  home  upon  land  and  water;  alike  ardent, 
patriotic,  and  unflinching  whenever  they  unfurled  the  flag 
of  their  country  "  —the  men  who  ferried  the  army  over  the 
icy  Delaware. 

Then,  if  you  descend  Queen  Street,  now  Broad,  you 
can  picture,  among  the  constructions  still  standing,  ,the 
house  before  which  Rail  was  mortally  wounded  as  he 
tried  to  rally  his  men.  Turning  down  Hanover  Street, 
you  come  upon  the  old  Quaker  Meeting  House,  above 
mentioned,  with  its  tablet: 

The 

Meeting  House 

was  occupied  by  the 

British 

Light  Dragoons 

December,  1776. 

Then,  by  crossing  into  State  Street,  you  reach  the  Pres- 
byterian church,  in  whose  graveyard  Rail  and  his  Hes- 
sians lie  buried. 

And  so  our  little  Trenton  pilgrimage  is  finished.  We 
have  seen  all  that  is  left  to  evoke  that  Christmas  day  of 
1776  that  meant  so  much  to  the  patriots,  turning  for  them 
the  gloom  of  night  into  the  bright  hues  of  dawn — the  day 

189 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

that  wrung  from  Lord  George  Germaine,  the  British 
colonial  minister,  his  bitter  sentence,  "All  our  hopes  were 
blasted  by  the  unhappy  affair  at  Trenton" — the  day  that 
brought  from  the  distinguished  Italian  historian,  Carlo 
Botta,  this  eulogy:  "All  nations  shared  in  the  surprise  of 
the  Americans.  All  equally  admired  and  applauded  the 
prudence,  the  constancy,  and  noble  intrepidity  of  General 
Washington.  An  unanimous  voice  proclaimed  him  the 
savior  of  his  country;  all  extolled  him  as  equal  to  the 
most  celebrated  commanders  of  antiquity.  His  name 
was  in  the  mouth  of  all.  All  proclaimed  him  the  Fabius 
of  America." 


190 


II 

PRINCETON 

A  FTER  this  signal  success  at  Trenton,  so  in- 
/%  spiriting  to  the  Americans,  Washington  led  his 
jL  JL  little  army  triumphantly  back,  with  their  thou- 
sand prisoners  and  captured  standards,  to  Newtown — a 
hard  march  indeed  for  the  already  wearied  patriots,  but 
their  spirits  were  now  buoyed  up  by  the  knowledge  of 
work  well  done.  After  a  few  days'  rest  the  commander- 
in-chief  was  back  in  Trenton,  and  by  the  first  of  the  year 
was  encamped  upon  the  hills  along  the  south  side  of  the 
Assanpink  beyond  the  bridge. 

At  the  news  from  Trenton  Cornwallis  had  cancelled 
his  sailing  for  England,  and  by  Howe's  orders  now  re- 
turned to  New  Jersey  with  all  speed  to  crush  Washing- 
ton. He  took  with  him  more  than  seven  thousand  of 
his  best  troops,  he  himself  leading  the  advance.  The 
situation  again  grew  critical.  Washington  would  not  and 
could  not  retreat,  for  thus  all  the  moral  effect  gained  by 
his  victory  at  Trenton  would  have  been  nullified.  So  he 
quietly  awaited  his  enemy's  coming. 

As  Cornwallis  advanced  down  the  old  turnpike  from 
Princeton  (the  road  the  trolley  now  follows)  he  was  met 
at  Five  Mile  Creek,  near  Maidenhead  (now  charming 
Lawrenceville,  with  its  pretty  homes  and  verdant  golf- 

191 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

links)  by  the  fire  of  Colonel  Hand's  riflemen.  When  he 
reached  Shebakunk  Creek  he  had  to  bring  up  some  can- 
non, so  stiff  was  the  resistance  put  up  by  Greene,  who  had 
advanced  thus  far  and  who  was  able  to  hold  him  in  check 


-<k 


The  Old  Quaker  Meeting  House,  near  Princeton 

just  long  enough  to  prevent  him  from  attacking  the  main 
army  that  afternoon. 

When  Cornwallis  found  this  out,  he  consoled  himself 
by  saying:  "Never  mind;  I've  got  the  old  fox  where  I 
want  him;  I'll  catch  him  in  the  morning." 

That  night  set  in  cold  and  the  wet  ground  froze  so  that 
the  roads  were  good  and  hard.  Washington  had  thought 
out  his  plan — a  plan  by  which  he  might  avoid  a  battle 
with  superior  numbers  and  yet  not  lose  prestige  by  a  re- 
treat.   His  scouts  had  informed  him  that  the  Rritish  had 

192 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

no  pickets  on  the  Old  Quaker  Road  that  leads  from  Tren- 
ton to  Princeton  via  Sandtown.  So  he  determined  to 
take  that  road,  pass  round  his  enemy,  cut  off  his  lines  of 
communication,  and,  if  possible,  make  a  dash  for  the 
vast  stores  he  had  accumulated  at  Brunswick.  A  coun- 
cil of  war  heartily  approved  this  audacious  plan. 

The  camp-fires  burned  brightly;  the  sentries  made  their 
accustomed  rounds  so  vigilantly  that  they  completely 
deceived  the  British  pickets  only  half  a  mile  away.  So 
the  surprise  and  dismay  of  Cornwallis  was  complete  when 
daybreak  revealed  an  empty  camp  before  him,  his  ex- 
pected prey  escaped,  and  heavy  firing  in  his  rear  to  tell 
him  he  had  been  outgeneralled. 

For,  as  early  as  sunrise,  the  Americans  were  entering 
Princeton.  They  had  advanced  to  the  Stony  Brook,  had 
crossed  it  over  the  bridge  that  preceded  the  one  that  I 
have  drawn,  and  had  halted  near  an  old  Quaker  Meeting 


&JvlV*"N^f 


Stony  Brook  Bridge,  near  Princeton 


193 


Stony  Brook. 

urn 

40  Miles  to  Phil? 

tf  Miles  to  N.York 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

House,  built  of  field-stone,  that  still  stands  in  a  secluded 
nook  down  by  the  little  river.  Here  Washington  re- 
formed his  column,  sending  General  Mercer  with  about 
five  hundred  men  to  destroy  the  bridge  on  the  main  turn- 
pike, and  thus  impede  Cornwallis's  return. 

This  detachment  quickly  came  in  contact  with  two 
regiments  of  British  that  were  just  setting  out  to  join 
Cornwallis.  Mutually  surprised,  both  forces  played  for 
position  on  some  high  ground  centring  round  the  farms  of 
two  brothers,  William  and  Thomas  Clark. 

In  the  library  of  the  University  of  Princeton  I  was 
shown  a  curious  account  of  the  battle  that  followed — a 
worn,  frayed  manuscript,  stained  with  brown  spots  and 
broken  into  holes  where  it  had  been  folded,  and  found 
among  General  Stryker's  papers.  The  narrator's  iden- 
tity is  not  known,  but  he  stood  near  enough  to  the  battle 
to  give  us  this  eye-witness's  account  of  it: 

"As  soon  as  it  was  light  we  saw  the  Regulars  that  was 
left  at  Princeton  Marching  toward  Trenton  and  in  about 
half  a  hour's  time  we  saw  them  comeing  back  faster  then 
they  went;  a  Party  of  them  came  into  our  Field  and  laid 
down  their  Packs  there  and  formed  at  the  corner  of  our 
Garden  about  60  yards  from  the  door  and  then  march t 
away  immediately  to  the  field  of  Battle  which  was  in 
William  Clarks  wheat  field  and  Orchard  Round  about  his 
house  and  how  much  further  to  the  westard  I  know  not. 
'It  was  plain  within  sight  of  our  door  at  about  400  Yards 
distance.   .  .  . 

"Before  any  Gun  was  heard  a  man  was  seen  to  fall 
and  Immediately  the  Report  and  Smoke  of  a  Gun  was 

194 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

Seen  and  Heard.  And  the  guns  went  of  so  quick  and 
many  together  that  they  could  not  be  numbered,  we 
Presently  went  down  into  the  Cellar  to  keep  out  of  the 
Way  of  the  Shot.  .  .  .  Almost  as  soon  as  the  firing  was 
over  our  house  was  filled  and  surrounded  with  Gen1. 
\\  ashington's  Men,  and  he  himself  on  horseback  at  the 
door.  They  brought  in  with  them  on  their  Shoulders 
two  Wounded  Regulars.  .  .  .  They  was  both  Used  very 
tenderly  by  the  Rebels  (as  they  call  them).  .  .  . 

"As  soon  as  the  battle  was  over  Gen1.  Mercer  (who 
had  his  horse  shot  down  under  him,  and  then  received 
several  wounds  by  which  in  some  days  after  he  dyed)  was 
carryed  into  Thomas  Clark's  house  with  several  other 
wounded  men,  And  above  Twenty  was  carried  into  Wil- 
liam Clark's  house.  .  .  . 

"Immediately  after  the  Battle  (as  I  said  before)  Gen1. 
Washington's  Men  came  into  our  house  Though  they 
were  both  hungry  and  thirsty  some  of  them  laughing  out 
right,  others  smileing,  and  not  a  man  among  them  but 
showed  Joy  in  the  Countenance.  It  really  Animated  my 
old  blood  with  Love  to  those  men  that  but  a  few  minutes 
before  had  been  Couragiously  looking  Death  in  the  face 
in  Releiving  a  part  of  their  Country  from  the  Barbarous 
Insults  and  Ravages  of  a  bold  and  Dareing  Enemy." 

A  crude  but  human  picture  certainly.  To  make  it 
vivid  you  should  go  down  to  the  battle-field  itself  and  see 
the  place  as  he  saw  it.  On  the  way  you  pass  stately 
Morven,  the  home  of  Richard  Stockton,  and  used  by 
Cornwallis  as  his  headquarters.  Then,  beyond  other 
handsome  country  houses,  you  reach  the  Pyne  estate, 
where  you  turn  from  the  main  highway  down  the  Old 
Post  Road. 

195 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

The  "narrator"  that  I  have  just  quoted  stood  about 
half-way  down  to  the  bridge.  To  his  left  occurred  the  first 
encounter  between  Mercer's  troops,  supported  by  Cap- 
tain Neal's  battery  of  two  guns,  and  the  two  British  regi- 
ments that  were  starting  for  Trenton  but  had  turned  back, 
as  he  describes,  upon  seeing  the  light  flashing  on  the 
bayonets  of  the  Americans.  Both  parties  were  surprised. 
The  Americans  got  under  cover  of  a  rail  fence  in  William 
Clark's  orchard  near  his  house.  And,  when  the  firing  be- 
gan behind  it,  our  narrator  went  into  his  cellar ! 

After  the  third  volley  the  British  charged  and  the 
Americans  retreated  in  disorder.  Their  officers,  unwilling 
to  yield,  remained  behind,  trying  to  rally  their  men,  and 
thus  a  number  of  these  gallant  men  fell:  Captain  Neal,  by 
his  guns;  Captain  Fleming  of  the  Virginians;  Haslet, 
colonel  of  the  Delaware  regiment,  and  General  Mercer 
himself,  who,  as  the  narrator  recounts,  "having  had  his 
horse  shot  down  under  him,"  was  wounded,  knocked 
down,  bayonetted,  and  left  for  dead. 

This  last  episode  Trumbull  has  made  the  subject  of 
his  famous  painting  of  the  "Battle  of  Princeton,"  the 
precious  sketches  for  which,  in  pen  and  lavis,  hang  in  the 
University  library,  showing  different  elements  of  the  com- 
position shifted  a  number  of  times  before  the  final  ar- 
rangement was  adopted. 

A  pile  of  cannon-balls  on  the  battle-field  now  marks 
the  spot  where  Mercer  fell.  Near  it  still  stands  the  house 
of  Thomas  Clark,  to  which  he  was  carried  and  in  which 
he  died. 

196 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

A  flagpole  and  a  little  monument  were  erected  here  in 
1897  by  the  Mercer  Engine  Company  of  Princeton.  The 
tablet   was    unveiled   by    Master   Hugh    Mercer,    great- 


House  and  Room  in  Which 
General  Mercer  Died 


great-grandson  of 
the  general,  and  the 
address  upon  this  oc- 
casion was  delivered 
by  Professor  Henry  C.  Cameron,  of  Princeton  Uni- 
versity, a  close  student  of  Princeton's  history.  Profes- 
sor Cameron  presented  me  with  a  copy  of  this  speech 
and  from  it  I  quote  the  next  episode — the  climax  of 
the  battle. 


197 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

As  we  have  seen,  the  Americans  were  retreating  in  dis- 
order when, 

"upon  hearing  the  fire,  Washington  sent  the  Pennsyl- 
vania militia  and  Moulder's  battery  to  the  assistance  of 
Mercer.  The  flight  of  the  Americans  was  stopped  and 
the  Rritish  pursuit  arrested,  but  their  artillery  caused  the 
militia  to  hesitate.  Washington  now  appeared  in  person, 
comprehended  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  putting 
spurs  to  his  horse,  he  dashed  past  the  militia,  galloped 
to  the  front  of  his  wavering  troops  and  with  command- 
ing voice  cheered  them  on.  .  .  . 

"Washington  seemed  reckless  of  all  danger;  never  was 
he  in  greater  peril  for  he  was  between  the  lines.  Rein- 
ing up  his  horse  with  head  to  the  enemy,  he  sat  im- 
movable, exposed  to  the  fire  of  both  armies  and  escape 
from  death  seemed  impossible. 

"His  aid,  Colonel  Fitzgerald,  who  often  told  the  story 
to  one  whom  I  remember  in  my  boyhood,  covered  his 
eyes  with  his  hat  that  he  might  not  witness  the  death  of 
his  beloved  chief.  A  roar  of  musketry  follows,  the  gal- 
lant Hitchcock's  Rhode  Island  regiment  on  the  right 
and  the  7th  Virginia,  with  cheers,  and  other  Continentals 
swing  into  line  on  the  left,  the  enemy  breaks  and  flies  as 
the  shout  of  victory  arises  from  the  American  army. 
Washington's  aid  ventured  to  look,  and,  as  the  smoke  of 
battle  lifted,  he  beheld  him  safe;  galloped  to  his  side  ex- 
claiming, 'Thank  God,  your  Excellency  is  safe,'  and  re- 
ceived the  order,  'Away,  my  dear  Colonel,  bring  up  the 
men,  the  day  is  our  own.'  ' 

The  Rritish  55th  made  a  last  determined  stand  near 
Nassau  Hall,  but  a  few  cannon-balls  and  superior  num- 

198 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

bers  finally  dislodged  them  and  they  retreated  toward 
New  Brunswick. 

Nassau  Hall,  around  which  still  centre  the  University's 
traditions,  fits,  in  essentials,  the  old  descriptions  of  it. 
But  you  will  admit  that  there  have  been  changes  in  it 
and  its  surroundings  since  the  days  of  the  Revolution 
when  you  chance  to  read  such  an  account  as  that  given 
by  a  French  traveller  of  distinction,  Moreau  de  St. 
Mery,  who  wrote  his  "Voyage  aux  Etats-Unis  d'Ame- 
rique,"  in  the  latter  years  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

He  tells  us  that  about  eighty  houses,  some  of  them  of 
brick,  then  bordered  the  road  in  Princeton. 


\-{ 


y assau  Hall,  Princeton 


199 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

"On  voit  dans  cette  ville  une  eglise  presbyterienne  et 
un  college;  ce  dernier  exige  que  nous  nous  arretions  pour 
en  parler,  conmie  nous  avons  fait  pour  le  visiter." 

So  he  describes  Old  Nassau,  giving  its  measurements 
correctly,  but  also  telling  us  that  the  forecourt  was  dirty 
and  full  of  the  dung  of  animals  that  grazed  there.  In  its 
dormitory  were  forty-two  rooms,  each  for  three  students, 
and  there  were  a  chapel,  a  refectory,  and  a  library  of 
about  two  hundred  volumes;  while  on  the  ground  floor, 
opposite  the  principal  door  (just  where  it  is  to-day) ,  was 
a  large  hall,  "garnie  de  bancs." 

On  entering  this  hall  one  saw  to  the  right  a  picture 
about  eight  feet  high — a  full-length  portrait  of  General 
Washington.  "Quoique  la  peinture  de  ce  tableau  ne  soit 
pas  sans  merite,  on  peut  neanmoins  y  critiquer  trois 
choses."  And  he  goes  on  to  enumerate  his  three  criti- 
cisms: first,  Washington  holds  his  hat  in  his  hand  while 
commanding  in  battle;  second,  Mercer  scarcely  seems  to 
be  suffering  enough;  and  third,  the  aides-de-camp  do  not 
appear  to  be  sufficiently  concerned  with  their  dying 
general. 

The  picture  thus  described  is  Charles  Wilson  Peale's 
well-known  portrait  of  Washington  that  still  hangs  in 
this  very  hall.  It  has  a  curious  history.  In  its  place,  in 
a  handsome  frame,  prior  to  the  battle  of  Princeton,  hung 
a  portrait  of  George  III.  One  of  the  cannon-balls  fired 
by  the  American  troops  in  the  brief  engagement  round 
Nassau  Hall  pierced  the  wall  of  the  structure  and  took 
off  the  King's  head.     Washington,  when  he  heard  of  this 

200 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

occurrence,  wishing  to  make  good  the  loss  to  the  col- 
lege, generously  gave  from  his  private  purse  the  sum  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  to  help  replace  it.  The 
board  of  trustees,  not  wanting  another  portrait  of  the 
King,  commissioned  Peale  to  paint  the  portrait  that  we 
now  see  hanging  in  the  identical  frame  that  once  sur- 
rounded his  Majesty's  likeness. 

I  do  not  agree  with  all  of  M.  de  St.  Mery's  strictures, 
for  I  consider  that  the  dying  Mercer's  head  (said  to  have 
been  painted  from  a  brother  who  closely  resembled  the 
general)  is  an  exceptionally  able  piece  of  painting,  im- 
printed with  a  pathos  and  depth  of  suffering  rarely  seen 
in  official  portraiture.  In  the  background  one  catches  a 
glimpse  of  Nassau  Hall  itself,  round  which  the  battle 
rages. 

While  in  the  venerable  shadow  of  Old  Nassau  I  cannot 
refrain  from  giving  an  extract  from  the  quaint  diary  of 
one  of  its  students — a  "campaign  journal"  as  he  calls  it 
— in  which  he  recounts  the  events  immediately  preced- 
ing the  battle: 

"On  the  29th  of  November,  1776,  New  Jersey  College, 
long  the  peaceful  seat  of  science  and  haunt  of  the  Muses, 
was  visited  with  the  melancholy  tidings  of  the  approach 
of  the  enemy. 

"This  alarmed  our  fears  and  gave  us  reason  to  believe 
we  must  soon  bid  adieu  to  our  peaceful  Departments  and 
break  off  in  the  midst  of  our  delightful  studies;  nor  were 
we  long  held  in  suspense;  our  worthy  President,  deeply 
affected  at  the  solemn  scene  entered  the  Hall,  where  the 
students  were  collected,  and  in  a  very  affecting  manner, 

201 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

informed  us  of  the  improbability  of  continuing  them 
longer  in  peace-  .  .  .  Solemnity  and  distress  appeared 
on  almost  every  countenance." 

The  president,  to  whom  he  alludes,  was  the  Reverend 
Doctor  John  Witherspoon,  whose  grim  portrait,  with 
Bible  in  hand,  still  hangs  in  the  hall.  He  was  the  only 
minister  of  the  gospel  in  the  Continental  Congress,  and 
when  other  of  its  members  hesitated  to  sign  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,  he  stepped  forward  courageously 
and  said:  "That  noble  instrument  upon  your  table  which 
secures  immortality  to  its  author,  should  be  subscribed 
this  very  morning  by  every  pen  in  this  house.  He  who 
will  not  respond  to  its  accents  is  unworthy  the  name  of 
freeman." 

Later  on,  in  August,  1783,  the  Continental  Congress 
held  its  sessions  here  in  Old  Nassau  and  summoned  before 
it  General  George  Washington  to  thank  him  officially 
upon  the  successful  issue  of  the  war  in  which  he  had 
"acted  so  conspicuous  a  part." 

From  that  time  until  the  following  November  Wash- 
ington resided  at  Rocky  Hill,  a  few  miles  distant,  and, 
while  there,  wrote  his  "Farewell  Orders,"  as  they  were 
called,  but  better  known  as  his  "Farewell  Address  to  the 
Armies  of  the  United  States,"  which  he  dated  "Rocky 
Hill,  near  Princeton,  November  2,  1783."  The  white 
clapboarded  house  in  which  he  then  resided  is  still 
standing  a  few  miles  from  the  town.  To  visit  it  you  take 
the  Brunswick  turnpike  and  follow  the  Old  Post  Road 
from   Philadelphia  to   New  York,   over  the  very   same 

202 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

route  that  the  Americans  took  after  the  battle  of  Prince- 
ton. 

Rocky  Hill  stands  on  an  eminence  just  off  this  road, 
dominating  a  wide  expanse  of  beautiful  Jersey  landscape, 
soft  and  green  as  a  bit  of  rural  England.  The  house  is 
piously  preserved  as  a  museum,  and  the  room,  opening  on 
the  upper  porch,  in  which  the  address  was  written,  is  still 
shown. 

In  January,  1777,  well  pleased  with  his  successes  at 
Trenton  and  Princeton,  Washington  pushed  on  to  Pluck  - 
amin  and  thence  to  the  high  ground  about  Morris  town, 
where  he  went  into  winter  quarters  until  the  following 
May. 


203 


Ill 

MORRISTOWN 

MORRISTOWN  to-day  is  very  well  known  as 
one  of  the  most  agreeable  towns  round  about 
New  York.  Just  too  far  from  the  metropolis 
to  be  called  suburban,  it  possesses  the  handsome  homes 
and  extensive  estates  of  a  number  of  New  Yorkers  who, 
wishing  to  be  sufficiently  near  the  metropolis  to  enjoy  its 
advantages,  yet  desire  to  live  in  the  country  and  partake 
of  the  pleasures  afforded  by  fine  golf-links,  riding  to 
hounds,  beagling,  and  other  gentlemen's  pastimes. 

In  Revolutionary  days  it  centred  round  a  green,  placed 
where  its  three  principal  streets — Morris,  Water,  and 
South — converged  and  about  which  clustered  most  of  its 
fifty-seven  houses  and  its  two  hundred  and  fifty  in- 
habitants. Its  strategic  position,  perched  as  it  is  upon 
steep  hillsides  and  dominated  by  Kemble  Mountain,  as 
well  as  the  fine  rich  valleys  about  it  that  made  provision- 
ing more  easy,  twice  made  it  Washington's  choice  for 
winter  quarters. 

We  have  just  followed  him  hither  for  the  first  time  in 
January,  1777.  He,  on  that  occasion,  took  up  his  head- 
quarters in  the  old  Arnold  or  Freeman  Tavern  that  used 
to  stand  where  the  United  States  Hotel  now  fronts  upon 

204 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

the  main  square.  This  first  winter  passed  almost  without 
incident.  But  as  spring  advanced  the  British  tried  to 
entice  him  down  from  his  hillsides  and  lead  him  into  a 
decisive  battle.  Instead  of  lending  himself  to  their 
manoeuvres,  he  threw  out  skirmishing  parties  and  raised 
the  Jersey  militia  to  harass  them  as  much  as  possible 
and  with  excellent  results. 

The  Princeton  student,  whom  I  have  before  quoted, 
joined  the  Amwell  militia  and  took  part  in  many  of  these 
forays.  In  one  of  his  later  papers  he  thus  describes  what 
they  did: 

"The  enemy  had,  some  days  before  this,  removed  from 
Brunswick  to  Millstone,  near  the  Court  House  and  it 
was  thought  would  make  an  attempt  on  Philadelphia. 
This  roused  the  Militia  of  all  the  neighboring  counties 
and  they  turned  out  with  such  spirit  as  will  do  them 
honor  to  the  latest  ages.  Never  did  the  Jerseys  appear 
more  universally  unanimous  to  oppose  the  Enemy;  they 
turned  out  Old  and  young,  great  and  small,  Rich  and 
poor;  Scarcely  a  man  that  could  carry  a  musket  was  left 
at  home.  .  .  . 

"The  British  then  fled  with  greatest  haste  to  Bruns- 
wick; but  the  Militia  pursued  them  so  closely  and  so 
warmly,  that  they  made  no  stay  there.  On  Sunday  morn- 
ing, June  22nd,  they  were  driven  out  of  the  Town,  and 
chased  near  to  Amboy  by  the  spirited  Militia.  .  .  . 
Thursday,  June,  26,  the  enemy  came  out  with  their  whole 
Body  from  Amboy  and  proceeded  to  Westfield,  where 
they  plundered  and  destroyed  everything  before  them 
and  distressed  the  Inhabitants  in  a  manner  before  un- 
heard of,  but  before  they  returned  to  Amboy  numbers  of 

205 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

them  were  cut  off  by  part  of  our  army,  and  some  Militia. 
They  returned  to  Amboy,  and  on  Monday  evening,  June 
the  30th,  1777,  they  all  left  Amboy  and  went  to  Staten 
Island." 

Thus  were  the  Jerseys  freed  from  the  enemy,  and  thus 
did  Washington,  without  a  battle,  again  make  himself 
master  of  the  State.  Thus  "the  British  army,  after  hav- 
ing overrun  victoriously  the  whole  of  New  Jersey  quite 
to  the  Delaware,  and  caused  even  the  city  of  Philadel- 
phia to  tremble  for  its  safety,  found  itself  now  restricted 
to  the  two  posts  of  Brunswick  and  Amboy.  Thus  by  an 
army  almost  reduced  to  extremity,  Philadelphia  was 
saved,  Pennsylvania  protected,  New  Jersey  nearly  re- 
covered, and  a  vigorous  and  powerful  army  laid  under  the 
necessity  of  quitting  all  thoughts  of  acting  offensively."* 

The  second  time  the  American  army  wintered  in  Morris- 
town  was  two  years  later.  On  that  occasion  they  were 
better  housed.  Log  huts  were  built,  sixteen  feet  long 
and  just  high  enough  for  a  man  to  stand  erect,  and  each 
provided  with  ten  or  twelve  bunks.  Washington  had 
issued  strict  orders  that  "any  hut  not  exactly  conformable 
to  the  plan  or  the  least  out  of  line,  should  be  pulled  down 
and  built  again."  The  result  was  a  model  camp,  so  reg- 
ular that  a  visitor  narrates  that  "the  encampments  are 
exceedingly  neat;  the  huts  are  all  of  a  size  and  placed  in 
more  exact  order  than  Philadelphia.  You  would  be  sur- 
prised to  see  how  well  built  they  are  without  nails." 

There  were  about  ten  thousand  men  in  the  army  that 

*  Botta. 
206 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

year.  The  park  of  artillery  was  nearest  to  town,  lying 
upon  the  slope  of  a  hill  "along  the  present  Mendham  road 
just  beyond  the  city  limits  where  the  road  turns  sharply 
to  the  left."  Doctor  Emory  McClintock  has  carefully 
studied  the  topography  of  this  camp  and,  in  a  paper  read 


Washington's  Headquarters,  Morristown 


before  the  Washington  Association  of  New  Jersey,  describes 
the  location  of  each  brigade  around  Kemble  Mountain. 

The  summit  of  this  high  hill  being  visible  from  most  of 
these  encampments,  as  well  as  from  headquarters,  it  was 
chosen  as  the  camp  alarm  station  with  orders  to  fire  its 
two  guns  at  the  first  signal  of  an  enemy's  approach. 

Washington's  headquarters    that  winter   were   in   the 

207 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

house  of  Colonel  Jacob  Ford's  widow,  a  fine  mansion 
built  of  brick,  covered  over  with  planks,  painted  white, 
but  not  clapboarded,  being  laid  edge  to  edge.  It  still 
stands  but  a  short  mile  from  the  green  out  on  the  Newark 
turnpike.  A  refined  and  aristocratic  air  pervades  it, 
set  as  it  is  upon  broad  lawns,  quite  free  from  neighboring 
houses.  Its  halls  are  spacious;  its  rooms  large  and  fin- 
ished with  well-designed  woodwork  of  the  usual  Colonial 
pattern.  It  is  now  arranged  as  a  museum  and  is,  I  think, 
after  Mount  Vernon  and  the  National  Museum  in  Wash- 
ington, the  richest  that  I  have  seen  in  souvenirs  and 
relics  of  our  national  hero. 

The  drawing-room  is  hung  with  portraits  of  him;  be- 
hind it  the  room  that  he  used  as  his  office  still  contains 
his  desk  and  other  articles  that  belonged  to  the  original 
Ford  furniture.  On  the  wall  hangs  Erskine's  plan  of  the 
Morristown  encampment,  prepared  under  Washington's 
own  direction.  Adjoining  this  office  was  that  of  his  chief 
secretary,  Alexander  Hamilton.  These  rooms  lie  to  the 
left  of  the  main  hall;  to  its  right  are  the  dining-room  and 
several  smaller  apartments,  with  the  kitchen  beyond — a 
kitchen  sadly  overfilled  with  a  variety  of  ticketed  utensils 
donated  by  patriotic  women.  The  hall  up-stairs  is  de- 
voted to  arms  and  uniforms. 

The  bedroom  on  the  east  front  is  the  one  that  General 
Washington  and  his  lady  occupied  during  that  winter. 
There  are  a  few  small  objects  in  it  that  were  there  at  the 
time  and  a  fragment  of  the  handsome  carpet  that  he  trod, 
framed  and  under  glass,  hangs  upon  the  wall. 

208 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

But  the  articles  that  recall  him  most  are  those  in  a 
room  across  the  hall:  the  clothes,  sword,  and  accessories 
that  he  wore  on  the  evening  of  his  inauguration.  The 
quiet  suit,  cut  in  the  familiar  pattern,  is  made  of  a  finely 
woven  ribbed  silk,  brownish  gray  in  color  and  ornamented 
with  large  buttons  covered  to  match.  A  knee-buckle, 
set  with  brilliants,  and  a  pair  of  shoe-buckles  of  simpler 
pattern  impart  a  touch  of  elegance  to  the  costume.  The 
dress  sword  is  the  one  known  as  the  Darke  sword,  because 
given  him  by  his  old  friend,  Major-General  William  Darke. 

In  the  case  with  these  articles  are  some  of  Martha 
Washington's  slippers,  one  high-heeled  pair,  white;  an- 
other, pale  blue.  Scattered  throughout  the  house,  with 
many  articles  of  doubtful  authenticity,  are  others  of  the 
highest  historic  interest,  as,  for  example,  the  original 
letter  written  by  Captain  John  Van  Dyk  concerning 
Andre's  execution — to  which  I  have  referred  in  another 
chapter.  You  will  find  also  finely  tailored  uniforms  of 
British  officers;  the  peaked  hats  of  Hessian  grenadiers; 
and  knapsacks  embellished  with  the  familiar  G.  R.  mon- 
ogram, as  well  as  numerous  articles  that  once  belonged 
to  women  of  the  period,  such  as  shell  combs,  scarfs,  an 
ear-trumpet  that  really  is  a  trumpet,  bonnets  of  leghorn 
and  bonnets  of  silk,  fans,  rings,  bracelets,  and  a  curious 
sewing-bird  that,  screwed  to  a  table,  used  to  hold  my 
lady's  work  within  its  beak. 

Life  here  at  the  Morristown  headquarters  had  its 
alarms  that  winter  and  its  pleasures.  The  alarms  were, 
for  the  most  part,  unnecessary,  for  no  enemy  came  to 

209 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

molest  the  army,  but  they  were  extremely  annoying  to 
the  two  ladies  of  the  household,  Mrs.  Washington  and 
Mrs.  Ford,  whose  rooms,  with  the  others,  were  invaded  by 
the  soldiers  of  Washington's  life-guard,  who  threw  up  the 
windows,  ready  to  repel  any  attack,  while  the  ladies  re- 
tired behind  the  curtains  of  their  beds. 

The  life-guards,  of  whom  there  were  two  hundred  and 
fifty,  commanded  by  General  Colfax,  were  quartered  in 
log  huts  erected  for  them  on  the  southeast  lawn.  Elijah 
Fisher,  whose  quaint  "Journal"  I  quoted  at  Saratoga, 
was  one  of  them  and  enjoyed  his  winter  very  much,  for 
he  says  he  "liked  being  there  better  than  being  in  the 
Ridgment  let  them  go  where  they  would." 

And  certainly  life  had  its  diversions.  Count  Pulaski 
exercised  his  cavalry  in  the  meadow  below  the  house 
and  gave  exhibitions  of  daring  Polish  horsemanship  that 
filled  the  young  officers  with  envy.  Here,  too,  presum- 
ably, "a  young  braggadocia  of  the  army,"  anxious  to 
emulate  the  Polish  count's  example,  asked  the  privilege 
of  breaking  a  spirited  colt  that  Washington  had  just 
bought.  His  Excellency  gave  his  consent  and  the  young 
fellow  mounted  the  horse,  retaining  his  seat  but  a  mo- 
ment or  two  when  his  fiery  mount  threw  up  his  heels, 
hurling  his  rider  over  his  head  and  landing  him  in  such 
ludicrous  fashion  that  Washington  "was  so  convulsed 
with  laughter,  that  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks."* 

Distinguished  visitors  came  and  went.  The  new  French 
minister,  the  Chevalier  de  Luzerne,  was  welcomed  and 

*  Notes  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Tuttle.     (Irving,  "  Life  of  Washington.") 

210 


IN    THE    JERSEYS 

made  a  lengthy  stay,  numerous  reviews  and  a  handsome 
ball  being  given  in  his  honor.  Here  occurred  the  funeral 
of  his  friend,  Don  Juan  de  Miralles,  who  died  of  a  pul- 
monic fever  and  was  buried  in  Spanish  fashion  with  great 
pomp,  Washington  and  his  generals  walking  as  chief 
mourners.  Here,  too,  again  to  quote  Elijah  Fisher,  "the 
Ingen  chief  come  to  Head  Quarters  to  Congratelate  with 
His  Exelency  and  also  Dined  with  him." 

Another  pleasing  picture  connected  with  that  long 
winter  is  afforded  by  Alexander  Hamilton's  courtship. 
The  house  wherein  it  took  place  still  stands  just  off  the 
main  road  between  headquarters  and  the  town — a  simple 
homestead  that  has  now  been  moved  so  as  to  face  a  side 
street.  It  was  the  residence  at  that  time  of  Doctor  Jabez 
Campfield,  and  in  it  that  winter  dwelt  the  Surgeon-Gen- 
eral, John  Cochran.  His  wife  was  a  sister  of  General 
Schuyler  and  the  general's  daughter  Elizabeth,  a  charm- 
ing girl  of  twenty-two,  was  visiting  her  aunt.  Colonel 
Hamilton,  who,  as  I  have  said,  was  Washington's  chief 
secretary,  met  her  often  and  became  so  interested  in  her 
that  he  spent  most  of  his  evenings  in  her  society.  So  we 
can  picture  him,  as  he  is  described,  returning  to  head- 
quarters in  the  moonlight,  his  mind  so  full  of  romantic 
thoughts  of  her  whom  he  had  just  left  and  was  to  marry 
in  the  following  year,  that  he  completely  forgot  the 
countersign.  The  sentry,  obdurate,  though  he  recog- 
nized his  Excellency's  aide-de-camp,  refused  to  let  him 
pass  until  a  friend  had  prompted  him  and  restored  to  his 
wandering  thoughts  the  cabalistic  word. 

211 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

These  were  the  lighter  touches  in  a  very  sombre  winter. 
In  January  the  snow  was  from  four  to  five  feet  deep  and 
the  cold  intense.  The  sufferings  of  the  ill-clothed  troops 
were  terrible.  As  usual,  Washington's  sympathy  went 
out  to  his  men  and  he  tried  in  every  way  to  alleviate 
their  misery,  but  with  little  real  success,  as  he  thus  writes 
to  a  friend:  "We  have  had  the  virtue  and  patience  of 
the  army  put  to  the  severest  trial.  Sometimes  it  has  been 
five  or  six  days  together  without  bread,  at  other  times  as 
many  without  meat  and  once  or  twice  two  or  three  days 
without  either.  ...  As  an  army  they  bore  it  with  the 
most  heroic  patience;  but  sufferings  like  these,  accom- 
panied by  the  want  of  clothes,  blankets,  &c,  will  produce 
frequent  desertions  in  all  armies ;  and  so  it  happened  with 
us,  though  it  did  not  excite  a  single  mutiny." 


212 


ROUND   ABOUT   PHILADELPHIA 


ROUND  ABOUT  PHILADELPHIA 


CHADD'S  FORD  AND  THE  BRANDYWINE 

OUR  next  visits  will  be  paid  to  the  historic  lo- 
calities in  the  vicinity  of  Philadelphia,  whither 
the  seat  of  war  now  shifted. 

During  the  early  half  of  1777  Washington,  as  we  have 
seen,  had  been  able  to  free  New  Jersey  from  British 
forces  and,  as  the  summer  ended,  he  was  intently  watch- 
ing the  movements  of  General  Howe  in  New  York. 
There  lay  the  difficult  problem.  Would  the  British  com- 
mander-in-chief ascend  the  Hudson  to  attempt  to  join 
Burgoyne  or  would  he  move  south  upon  Philadelphia  ? 

This  city — the  capital  of  the  colonies — had  been  men- 
aced once  before  just  prior  to  the  battle  of  Trenton  and 
now,  after  a  period  of  doubt,  Howe  decided  to  attack  it 
again,  as,  to  use  his  own  words,  the  capture  of  Philadel- 
phia seemed  "the  surest  road  to  peace  and  the  defeat  of 
the  regular  rebel  army." 

So  he  embarked  an  imposing  expedition  early  in  July, 
and  set  sail  from  Sandy  Hook  on  the  23d  of  that  month, 
arriving  off  Cape  Henlopen  on  the  30th.  His  intention 
had  been  to  ascend  Delaware  Bay  and  disembark  his 
army  somewhere  near  Wilmington,  but  he  found   that 

215 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Washington  had  forestalled  him  by  establishing  a  strong 
water-guard  on  the  Delaware;  by  placing  floating  bat- 
teries in  it;  and  by  marching  his  main  army  down  to 
Wilmington.  In  the  face  of  such  serious  opposition, 
Howe  realized  that  it  would  be  impossible  successfully 
to  land  his  army. 

So  he  was  forced  to  put  to  sea  again  with  his  great 
fleet.  His  withdrawal  perplexed  Washington,  for  nothing 
was  heard  of  him  for  some  time.  A  council  of  officers 
had  just  unanimously  decided  that  he  had  sailed  for 
Charleston,  when  a  message  came  from  John  Hancock, 
president  of  Congress,  that  "near  two  hundred  of  General 
Howe's  fleet  was  at  anchor  in  the  Chesapeake  Bay." 

Washington,  foreseeing  the  next  move,  was  busy 
again.  On  the  22d  of  August  he  visited  the  defenses  at 
Mud  Island,  Red  Bank,  and  Billingsport,  forts  in  the 
Delaware  below  Philadelphia,  and,  three  days  later,  made 
"a  Reconnoitre  to  the  Head  of  Elk  with  a  large  party  of 
Horse,"  as  his  account-book  tells  us. 

The  Head  of  Elk  is  at  the  extreme  north  end  of  the 
Chesapeake  Bay.  It  is  now  known  as  Elkton,  and  lies 
on  the  main  railway  line  between  Philadelphia  and  Bal- 
timore. 

The  British  fleet  sailed  up  the  Chesapeake  as  far  as 
Turkey  Point,  ten  miles  below  the  Head  of  Elk,  and  there 
disembarked  the  entire  army,  eighteen  thousand  strong. 
And  a  day  or  two  later,  this  army  was  at  the  Head  of 
Elk,  only  fifty-four  miles  from  Philadelphia. 

Washington  was  determined  to  oppose  its  further  ad- 

216 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 


vance,  strong  as  it  was.  His  own  army  only  numbered 
about  eleven  thousand  and  many  of  these  were  raw  re- 
cruits, but  he  considered  that  even  a  lost  battle  would  be 
less  dispiriting  to  the  soldiers  and  the  colonies  than  an 


Map  of  Vicinity  of  Philadelphia 

unopposed  march  of  the  British  into  Philadelphia.  So 
on  the  9th  of  September  he  took  up  a  position,  selected 
by  General  Greene,  along  the  east  bank  of  the  Bran- 
dy wine,  a  considerable  stream  that  flows  down  to  join 
the  Delaware  at  Wilmington.  Slight  intrenchments  were 
thrown  up  and  Washington  made  his  own  headquarters 
in  the  village  called  Chadd's  Ford. 

217 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

I  spent  a  summer  in  this  village  some  years  ago. 
Though  the  woods  described  in  the  Revolutionary  ac- 
counts have  largely  disappeared,  and  are  now  replaced  by 
open  meadows  and  pasturelands,  with  here  and  there 
lines  and  clusters  of  handsome  trees,  many  of  the  quaint 
old  houses  and  mills  yet  remain  as  well  as  a  number  of 
those  fine  old  stone  barns  that  give  such  a  distinctive 
note  to  the  landscape— massive  structures,  usually  placed 
on  hill-slopes  so  that  the  wagons  can  drive  into  the  upper 
story  from  the  rear. 

I  stayed  at  a  little  inn  kept  by  Quakers  (many  of  the 
inhabitants  hereabout  are  still  Friends),  and  well  kept, 
too,  and  in  it,  that  season,  were  a  group  of  New  York 
artists  out  for  their  summer  sketching. 

Up  the  road,  beyond  Washington's  headquarters, 
lived  Howard  Pyle,  who  had  brought  with  him  a  special 
class  of  pupils  from  Wilmington  and  Philadelphia,  several 
of  whom  now  rank  among  our  foremost  illustrators. 
Mr.  Pyle  and  I  were  both  engaged  upon  illustrations 
for  the  same  book  and  this  was  a  bond  between  us  which 
soon  ripened  into  a  good  friendship.  In  his  buggy  he 
used  to  stop  for  me  at  the  inn  and  we  went  sketching 
together  up  the  valley  of  the  Brandywine  or  over  the 
hill  toward  the  Birmingham  Meeting  House. 

Those  were  delightful  afternoons  and  the  memory  of 
them  lingers  as  a  precious  reminiscence,  for  he  was  an 
exceptional  man — stalwart  and  healthy  and  fine  in  mind 
as  in  body.  He  was,  of  course,  as  his  work  always  showed, 
a  very  close  student  of  the  Revolutionary  period,  and  his 

218 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

life  was  tinged  with  the  flavor  of  that  epoch.  So,  when  I 
think  of  Chadd's  Ford  I  love  to  recall  his  manly  voice 
singing  the  martial  ballads  that  he  liked — the  "British 
Grenadier,"  "Rule  Britannia,"  and  others  of  that  ilk — • 


^Q; 


Washington  s  Headquarters,  near  Chadd's  Ford 


and  his  personality  is  closely  linked  in  my  mind  with 
memories  of  the  battle  of  the  Brandy  wine,  for  our  excur- 
sions together  afford  a  vivid  background  for  it. 

As  I  have  said,  Washington  took  up  his  quarters  at 
Chadd's  Ford  on  the  9th  of  September. 

219 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

That  same  afternoon  General  Knyphausen,  with  the 
Hessians,  marched  into  New  Garden  and  Kennett  Square, 
on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  though  a  few  miles  dis- 
tant from  it.  In  this  vicinity  there  were  several  fords 
along  the  Brandywine,  by  any  one  of  which  an  army 
could  pass:  Chadd's,  directly  between  the  two  hostile 
camps;  Pyle's,  below;  Brin ton's  and  others,  above.  On 
the  following  morning  Cornwallis  joined  Kynphausen, 
accompanied  by  the  commander-in-chief,  General  Howe. 
Thus,  by  the  night  of  the  10th  of  September,  the  two 
armies  lay  watching  each  other.  Washington  thought  he 
had  picketed  all  the  fords  up  and  down  the  river,  and  so 
was  facing  only  the  possibility  of  a  frontal  attack. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  11th  skirmishing  began 
along  the  Brandywine,  parties  of  Americans  crossing 
and  engaging  the  enemy,  who  drove  them  back.  Knyp- 
hausen then  brought  up  artillery  and  began  bombarding 
the  main  American  lines  as  if  preparatory  to  a  concen- 
trated attack. 

Meanwhile,  unknown  to  Washington,  Cornwallis,  with 
General  Howe  himself  and  about  five  thousand  troops, 
had  made  a  long  detour  up  the  river,  crossed  its  two 
feeders  by  small  fords,  and  was  even  now  coming  down 
from  Sconneltown  by  a  road  that  led  to  the  Birmingham 
Meeting  House,  in  the  rear  of  the  American  army.  Though 
discovered  at  one  time  by  an  American  patrol,  this  column 
had  not  been  definitely  located  as  it  passed  through  the 
dense  woods,  and  the  surprise  of  its  sudden  appearance 
was  complete.    This  surprise  and  the  events  that  followed 

220 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

are  graphically  told  in  a  statement  by  Joseph  Townsend, 
a  Quaker  who  lived  up  near  Sconneltown  and  saw  the 
battle  that  he  thus  describes :  * 


Lafayette  s  Headquarters,  near  Chadd's  Ford 


"At  that  time  I  resided  at  my  father's,  the  place  of  my 
nativity,  adjoining  to  the  ground  where  West  Chester  now 
stands.  ...  A  majority  of  the  inhabitants  were  of  the 
Society  of  Friends,  who  could  not  consistently  with  their 
principles  take  any  part  in  the  war,  and  who  generally 
believed  it  right  to  remain  in  their  dwellings,  and  patiently 
submit  to  whatever  suffering  might  be  their  lot.  .  .  . 

*  "Bulletin  of  the  Historical  Society  of  Pennsylvania,"  vol.  I,  1845-7. 

221 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

"General  Washington  had  his  head  quarters  at  Ben- 
jamin Rings'  who  resided  near  the  east  end  of  Chadd's 
ford,  and  General  La  Fayette  was  near  at  hand  in  the 
neighborhood.*  They  were  frequently  together,  which 
afforded  an  opportunity  to  spectators  to  view  them  both 
at  the  same  time.  ..." 

He  then  describes  the  disposition  of  the  two  armies,  as 
I  have  done,  and  the  skirmishing  on  the  morning  of  the 
11th  of  September.  Then,  "possessed  of  curiosity  and 
fond  of  new  things,"  with  his  brother  he  rode  "along  side 
of  the  Brandy  wine  for  some  distance,  to  discover  the  ap- 
proach of  the  British  army."  But,  seeing  nothing,  they 
went  to  a  Friends'  meeting  up  at  Sconneltown  and  while 
there  heard  a  disturbance  outside. 

"  On  our  coming  out  of  the  house,  and  making  some  in- 
quiry of  what  had  happened,  found  it  to  be  an  alarm 
among  some  of  the  neighboring  women,  that  the  English 
army  was  coming,  and  that  they  murdered  all  before 
them,  young  and  old.  Some  of  us  endeavored  to  quiet 
their  fears  by  telling  them  it  was  not  likely  to  be  the 
case  .  .  .  and  while  we  were  reasoning  with  them,  our 
eyes  were  caught  on  a  sudden  by  the  appearance  of  the 
army  coming  out  of  the  woods  into  the  fields  belonging 
to  Emmor  Jefferis,  on  the  west  side  of  the  creek  above 
the  fording  place.  |  In  a  few  minutes  the  fields  were 
literally  covered  with  them,  and  they  were  hastening 
towards   us.      Their    arms    and    bayonets   being   raised, 

*  Both  headquarters  still  stand  quite  close  together  on  the  main  road. 
Lafayette  had  just  been  commissioned  a  volunteer  major-general,  and 
this  was  the  first  action  in  which  he  participated. 

f  JefFery's  Ford. 

222 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

shone  as  bright  as  silver,  there  being  a  clear  sky  and 
the  day  exceedingly  warm.  Recollecting  that  there  was 
no  one  at  our  dwelling,  except  some  of  our  sisters,  we 
concluded  it  advisable  to  return  home  as  expeditiously  as 
possible." 

But  the  British  changed  their  direction  at  Sconnel- 
town  and  headed  down  toward  the  Birmingham  Meeting 
House,  so 

"being  disposed  to  have  a  better  and  a  nearer  view,  we 
set  out  for  the  purpose  and  passing  by  the  dwelling  of 
Abel  Boake,  we  soon  met  Sarah,  his  wife,  who  had  been 
as  curious  as  ourselves  and  had  been  among  the  soldiers 
as  they  marched  along.  .  .  .  She  encouraged  our  go- 
ing amongst  them,  at  the  same  time  admiring  their  ap- 
pearance and  saying  what  fine  looking  fellows  they 
were,  and  to  use  her  own  expression  'they  were  some- 
thing like  an  army.'  " 

So  the  brothers  went  to  have  a  nearer  view  and  to 
talk  to  the  officers,  who  seemed  glad  to  see  them — for,  I 
suspect,  the  two  had  Tory  leanings,  as  most  of  the 
Quakers  did. 

"They  inquired  what  sort  of  a  man  Mr.  Washington 
was.  My  brother  had  a  knowledge  of  him  by  being  with 
him  at  his  quarters  at  Ghadd's  Ford,  and  replied  that  he 
was  a  stately,  well-proportioned,  fine-looking  man,  of 
great  ability,  firm  and  resolute,  of  a  social  disposition 
and  was  considered  to  be  a  good  man. 

"One  of  the  officers  then  observed  to  me  in  some  rap- 
ture 'you  have  got  a  hell  of  a  fine  country  here,  which 

223 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

we  have  found  to  be  the  case  ever  since  we  landed  at 
the  head  of  Elk.' 

"The  house  we  were  in  was  elevated,  so  that  on  the 
first  floor  where  we  stood  we  had  a  pretty  full  view  of 
the  army  as  they  progressed  along;  and  while  we  were 
conversing  together,  my  brother  called  on  me  to  step 
to  the  door  and  see  General  Lord  Cornwallis,  who  was 
passing  by.  He  was  on  horseback,  appeared  tall  and  sat 
very  erect.  His  rich  scarlet  clothing,  loaded  with  gold 
lace,  epaulets,  etc.,  occasioned  him  to  make  a  brilliant 
and  martial  appearance.  ...  It  may  be  observed  that 
most  or  all  of  the  officers  who  conversed  with  us,  were  of 
first  rank,  and  were  rather  short,  portly  men,  were  well 
dressed  and  of  genteel  appearance,  and  did  not  look  as 
if  they  had  ever  been  exposed  to  any  hardship;  their 
skins  being  as  white  and  delicate  as  is  customary  for 
females  who  were  brought  up  in  large  cities  or  towns." 

When  the  main  action  began,  our  friend  retired  to  a 
hill,  where 

"in  Samuel  Osborn's  field  a  number  of  my  acquaintances 
were  standing  near  a  considerable  number  of  persons  on 
horseback  and  viewing  them.  ...  It  appeared  that 
those  on  horseback  were  some  of  the  principal  officers  of 
the  Rritish  army  with  their  aids,  who  had  collected  to- 
gether to  consult  respecting  carrying  on  the  engage- 
ment to  the  best  advantage.  Among  them  was  General 
Howe.  He  was  mounted  on  a  large  English  horse  much 
reduced  in  flesh,  I  suppose  from  being  so  long  con- 
fined on  board  the  fleet.  .  .  .  The  general  was  a  large 
portly  man,  of  coarse  features.  He  appeared  to  have 
lost  his  teeth,  as  his  mouth  had  fallen  in.  As  I  stood 
alongside,  I  had  a  full  opportunity  of  viewing  him  as  he 

224 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

sat  on  horseback,  and  had  to  observe  his  large  legs  and 
boots,  with  flourishing  spurs  thereon. 

"While  the  officers  were  in  consultation,  and  we  view- 
ing them  together  with  the  smoke  issuing  from  the  can- 
non and  musketry,  we  heard  a  tremendous  roaring  of 


[BIRMINGHAM 

MEETING-HOUSE 

,  WBtWBovvS  aX*  3*9  WA9  KA'9  U  ^VJfS  VKL ^g 


>fr« 


Birmingham  Meeting  House,  near  Chadd's  Ford 


cannon,  and  saw  the  volume  of  smoke  arising  therefrom 
at  Chadd's  Ford.  General  Knyphausen  having  discov- 
ered that  the  engagement  was  on  with  the  front  of  Howe's 
army  at  the  Meeting  House,  he  immediately  forced  the 
troops  under  his  command  across  the  Brandy  wine,  and 
the  whole  of  General  Washington's  army  in  that  station 
were  routed  from  their  breastworks.  .  .  .  From  these 
circumstances  General  Washington  concluded  it  prudent 
to  effect  a  retreat  which  took  place  accordingly. 

225 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

"While  we  remained  on  Osborne's  hill,  we  had  the  op- 
portunity of  making  many  observations, — the  engage- 
ment of  both  armies — the  fields  in  front  of  us  containing 
great  heaps  of  blankets  and  baggage,  thrown  together  to 
relieve  the  men  for  action — the  regular  march  of  the 
British  army,  consisting  of  horse  and  foot,  artillery,  bag- 
gage and  provision  wagons,  arms  and  ammunition,  to- 
gether with  a  host  of  plunderers  and  rabble  that  accom- 
panied the  army.  Almost  the  whole  face  of  the  country 
around  appeared  to  be  covered  and  alive  with  these  ob- 
jects.   Their  march  continued  about  four  hours. 

"We  remained  on  the  hill  for  some  time,  and  when 
the  engagement  appeared  to  be  nearly  over  or  at  least 
that  part  of  it  which  was  in  view.,  and  the  day  being  on 
the  decline,  we  were  about  retiring;  but  as  admiration 
and  curiosity  had  been  the  order  of  the  day,  I  proposed 
to  some  of  my  companions  that  we  should  go  over  the 
field  of  battle  and  take  a  view  of  the  dead  and  wound- 
ed, as  we  might  never  have  such  another  opportunity. 
Some  of  them  consented,  and  others  with  some  reluc- 
tance yielded.  We  hastened  thither  and  awful  was  the 
scene  to  behold — such  a  number  of  fellow  beings  lying 
together  severely  wounded  and  some  mortally — a  few 
dead,  but  a  small  proportion  of  them  considering  the 
quantity  of  powder  and  ball  that  had  been  discharged. 
It  was  now  time  for  the  surgeons  to  exert  themselves, 
and  divers  of  them  were  busily  employed.  Some  of  the 
doors  of  the  meeting  house  were  torn  off  and  the  wounded 
carried  thereon  into  the  house  to  be  occupied  for  a  hos- 
pital. ..." 

This  picturesque  account  very  well  describes  the  vari- 
ous episodes  of  the  battle  of  the  Brandywine.  For 
it  tells  us  how,   while   Knyphausen   "kept  the   enemy 

226 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

amused  during  the  day  with  cannon"  down  by  Chadd's 
Ford,  Cornwallis  stole  a  march  and,  suddenly  forming 
his  troops  up  by  the  Birmingham  Meeting  House,  fell 
upon  Sullivan,  who  had  been  despatched  at  the  last  mo- 
ment to  oppose  him  there,  defeated  him  and  pushed  him 
back;  while  Knyphausen,  "having  discovered  that  the 
engagement  was  on  at  the  Meeting  House,"  led  his  troops 
with  a  rush  across  the  river  and  drove  the  Americans 
from  their  intrenchments.  Caught  thus  between  two 
armies,  the  wonder  is  that  Washington  was  able  to  ex- 
tricate himself  at  all  and  could  effect  his  retreat  with  so 
little  loss  and  in  such  good  order. 

In  helping  to  cover  this  retreat,  Lafayette,  youthful, 
impetuous,  desirous  of  proving  himself  worthy  of  his 
newly  granted  commission,  was  wounded  in  the  leg  at  a 
spot  upon  the  Dilworth  Road  now  marked  by  a  monu- 
ment, appropriately  inscribed. 

The  old  Birmingham  Meeting  House  still  stands  upon 
the  hill  above  Chadd's  Ford — still  used  by  the  Quakers 
for  their  meetings — a  sturdy  stone  structure  whose  doors 
and  window-shutters,  now  painted  neat  and  white,  re- 
main perpetual  reminders  of  the  day  when  they  were 
torn  from  their  hinges  to  serve  as  litters  for  the  British 
soldiers  wounded  in  the  battle  of  the  Brandy  wine. 


227 


II 

GERMANTOWN 

A  FTER  the  battle  of  the  Brandywine,  Washington 
/_%  retreated  beyond  the  Schuylkill  to  Germantown; 
.X.  ^  but  as  soon  as  his  soldiers  were  somewhat  re- 
freshed he  recrossed  the  river  and  again  endeavored  to 
stay  Howe's  advance  upon  Philadelphia.  On  the  Lan- 
caster Road,  near  the  Warren  Tavern,  the  two  armies 
again  confronted  each  other,  but  a  sudden  September 
deluge  wet  their  powder  and  prevented  the  impending 
battle.  The  storm  lasted  all  night  and  by  morning  Howe 
had  slipped  away  toward  Swedes'  Ford,  now  Swedeland, 
opposite  Conshohocken,  a  station  we  shall  pass  on  the 
road  to  Valley  Forge. 

Washington  crossed  back  by  way  of  Parker's  Ford, 
higher  up  the  river,  but  again  Howe  changed  his  direc- 
tion, made  a  feint  up  the  Schuylkill  toward  Reading,  and, 
when  Washington  had  well  started  to  save  his  Reading 
stores,  Howe  wheeled  about,  marched  rapidly  down  the 
river,  crossed  it  at  the  Fatland  Ford,  about  where  Port 
Kennedy  now  is,  and  pushed  on  to  Philadelphia,  which 
he  entered  on  the  26th  of  September,  1777,  having  eluded 
Washington  entirely. 

Howe  stationed  his  main  army  in  Germantown,  send- 
ing out  detachments  to  reduce  the  forts  at  Billingsport 

228 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

and  Fort  Mercer  on  the  Delaware  below  Philadelphia. 
These  two  expeditions  weakened  his  effectives  to  such 
an  extent  that  Washington,  who  meanwhile  had  received 
reinforcements  from  Peekskill,  was  emboldened  to  try 
another  battle. 

His  base,  at  the  time,  was  at  Pennibecker's  Mill,  up 
the  Skippack  Creek.  From  this  place  he  planned  to  de- 
scend by  night  and  make  a  surprise  attack  upon  the 
British  who  remained  in  Germantown,  with  their  outposts 
extending  as  far  up  as  Mount  Airy.  So,  at  seven  in  the 
evening  of  the  3d  of  October,  the  American  army  left 
camp,  advancing  upon  Germantown  in  three  divisions: 
Sullivan  and  Wayne  leading  the  centre;  Armstrong  the 
right;  and  Greene  the  left.  These  last  divisions  took 
outer  roads  so  as  to  flank  the  enemy  and  join  the  centre 
in  Germantown  itself. 

At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  Germantown  was  a 
straggling  settlement,  ranged  along  a  single  street.  To 
a  certain  extent  it  may  so  be  described  to-day,  for  its 
single  main  street,  three  miles  or  more  in  length,  is  only 
crossed  by  short  thoroughfares.  This  long  street  follows 
the  ridges  of  several  hills  up  and  down,  so  that  no 
great  part  of  its  length  can  be  seen  at  one  time.  It  is 
still  bordered  by  many  of  its  old-time  houses — a  number 
of  them  historic  and  designated  by  tablets — whose  dormer- 
windows,  steep  roofs,  clapboarded  fronts,  and  colonial 
doorways  impart  to  it  a  decided  flavor  of  other  days. 

It  was  down  this  main  street  that  the  principal  action 
occurred  in  the  battle  of  Germantown.     The  American 

229 


R  EVOLUTIONARY    P  I  L  G  R  I  M  AGE 

advanced  brigade  first  came  in  contact  with  the  pickets 
up  at  Mount  Airy.  These  pickets  were  quickly  supported 
by  British  light  infantry,  for  the  surprise  had  not  been 
complete.  Sullivan's  troops  now  came  up  and  the  Brit- 
ish retreated,  fighting  as  they  went.  Even  Colonel  Mus- 
grave,  with  the  Fortieth,  who  pushed  forward  to  the 
rescue,  was  not  able  to  stem  the  tide  and  was  obliged  to 
fall  back.  The  British  retreat  now  became  general,  but 
when  the  retiring  troops  passed  the  great  Chew  house 
that  stood  near  the  street  Colonel  Musgrave  flung  him- 
self, with  five  companies  of  his  regiment,  into  the  big 
stone  mansion,  barricaded  the  doors  and  windows,  and 
from  this  improvised  fortress  fired  upon  the  pursuing 
American  column.  The  Americans  hesitated,  halted,  and 
endeavored  to  dislodge  Musgrave  and  his  men.  But  the 
solid  masonry  of  the  stone  house  was  like  a  single  rock 
and  their  bullets  bounded  off  its  walls  and  fell  harmless 
upon  the  ground.  Even  General  Knox's  cannon  proved 
ineffective,  and  he,  obeying  a  law  of  military  tactics, 
would  not  advance  and  "leave  an  enemy  in  a  fort  in  the 
rear." 

An  attempt  was  then  made  to  set  fire  to  the  house.  A 
brave  young  officer,  Major  White,  one  of  General  Sulli- 
van's aides,  ran  in  so  close  with  a  firebrand  that  the  shots 
from  the  windows  could  not  attain  him.  But  a  regular, 
slipping  into  the  cellar,  fired  up  from  one  of  the  grated 
windows  and  killed  him.  The  stout  oaken  doors  resisted 
all  attack. 

General   Wayne's   division,   which   had   advanced   far 

230 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

beyond  the  house  in  its  pursuit  of  the  British,  now  came 
back,  and  for  a  full  hour  the  Americans  laid  siege  to 
this  annoying  obstacle  that  upset  all  their  preconceived 
plan  of  battle.     For,  the  centre  being  thus  delayed,  the 


The  Chew  House,  Germantown 


wings  had  pushed  forward.  Greene  had  met  with  nota- 
ble success  and  had  arrived,  as  ordered,  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Market  House  that  used  to  stand  where  the 
Schoolhouse  Lane  crossed  the  main  street.  But,  owing 
chiefly  to  the  attack  on  the  Chew  house,  as  well  as  to  the 
slowness  of  Armstrong's  division,  he  was  not  supported 
by  the  arrival  of  the  other  parts  of  the  American  army. 

231 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

The  Rritish,  who  had  been  thrown  into  the  greatest  dis- 
order, now  had  time  to  reorganize  their  line.  General 
Grey  brought  up  the  left  wing  and  for  two  hours  the  bat- 
tle raged  up  and  down  the  street  with  the  issue  still  in 
doubt. 

The  morning  fog  thickened  and  added  to  the  con- 
fusion. Friend  was  mistaken  for  foe.  At  this  critical 
moment  Sullivan's  division,  feeling  itself  unsupported 
and  hearing  exaggerated  rumors  of  reverses  elsewhere, 
began  to  retreat.  This  retreat  soon  became  general,  and 
the  "activity  of  a  powerful  and  almost  invisible  enemy 
quickened  that  retreat." 

Thus,  what  might  well  have  been  a  victory  was  turned 
to  a  defeat — -a  defeat,  however,  that  was  not  severe 
enough  to  discourage  the  American  army  nor  seriously 
cripple  it. 

On  the  green  at  Germantown,  near  the  spot  where  the 
old  Market  House  used  to  stand,  is  a  simple  but  digni- 
fied monument  "erected  by  the  Commonwealth  of 
Pennsylvania,"  with  a  plan  of  the  battle  on  one  side, 
and  on  the  other  this  extract  from  Washington's  report 
to  the  president  of  Congress: 

"Upon  the  whole  it  may  be  said  that  the  day  was  un- 
fortunate rather  than  injurious.  We  sustained  no  mate- 
rial loss.  .  .  . 

'The  enemy  are  nothing  the  better  by  the  event  and 
our  troops,  who  are  not  in  the  least  disappointed  by  it, 
have  gained  what  all  young  troops  gain  by  being  in 
actions." 

232 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

The  last  time  I  stood  before  this  monument  it  was  the 
centre  of  a  pretty  scene.  As  a  local  paper  expressed  it, 
"the  descendants  of  the  Colonial  aristocracy  of  German- 
town  sold  chickens,  garden  hats,  and  flowers  for  the  sake 
of  charity,"  for  Yernon  Park,  as  this  green  is  now  called, 
had  been  converted  for  the  occasion  into  a  huge  May 
market,  and  in  front  of  the  old  Wister  mansion,  with 
its  statue  of  John  Wister  before  it,  "the  very  shrine  of 
old  Germantown  families,"  booths  had  been  erected,  tea 
was  being  served,  and  young  ladies,  looking  charming 
in  chintzes  and  silks  of  colonial  fashion,  were  vending 
flowers  and  favors  for  the  benefit  of  a  local  charity. 
There  were  animals  for  the  children  to  ride;  there  were 
music  and  a  country  store  and  attractions  of  all  kinds 
as  long  as  daylight  lasted. 

Toward  evening  I  wandered  up  Germantown  Avenue 
to  the  old  Chew  house.  The  stately  and  venerable  man- 
sion, called  Cliveden,  stands  well  back  from  the  road  on 
a  lawn  shaded  by  fine  old  trees.  It  was  built  in  1763  by 
Benjamin  Chew,  an  eminent  jurist,  recorder  of  the  city 
of  Philadelphia,  then  attorney-general  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  finally,  in  1774,  chief  justice  of  its  supreme  court. 
His  portrait  in  Independence  Hall,  copied  from  a  minia- 
ture, shows  a  rather  sour-faced  man,  thin,  with  large 
spectacles  astride  a  stubborn  nose  of  aristocratic  pattern, 
aquiline,  high-bridged,  and  full  of  character. 

The  chief  justice  remained  "on  the  fence"  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  B evolution.  He  favored  reform  but  not 
independence;    wherefore,  after  refusing  to   indorse    the 

233 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Declaration  of  Independence,  he  was  put  under  arrest 
and  sent  to  Fredericksburg,  Virginia,  which  accounts  for 
his  absence  during  the  battle. 

One  of  his  daughters,  Peggy,  was  a  heroine  of  the 
Mischianza,  which  I  shall  describe  in  my  chapter  on 
Philadelphia,  and  her  love-affair  with  Major  Andre  forms 
a  lighter  touch  in  the  British  officer's  story.  His  death, 
following  so  soon  upon  their  violent  flirtation,  did  not 
affect  her  too  deeply,  for  she  afterward  married  that 
stanch  patriot  and  splendid  gentleman  Colonel  John 
Eager  Howard,  hero  of  the  Cowpens  and  donor  of  the 
land  whereon  the  great  Washington  Monument  now 
stands  in  his  native  city,  Baltimore. 

One  has  only  to  look  at  Cliveden's  massive  walls  to 
realize  what  a  fortress  it  could  become,  and  how  suc- 
cessfully it  could  withstand  artillery  of  the  calibre  then 
in  use.  It  is  built  of  a  very  hard  stone,  granitic  and 
thickly  sprinkled  with  glittering  particles  that  shine  in 
the  sun  like  mica.  The  stone  is  gray,  the  roofs  slate- 
colored,  and  the  doors  and  shutters  white,  giving  the  old 
demain  an  air  of  tranquil  dignity,  habited,  like  a  gentle- 
man, in  quiet  attire.  On  the  lawns  about  it  stand  frag- 
ments of  the  statues  that  were  battered  and  mutilated 
during  the  battle.  Through  one  of  the  grated  basement 
windows  Major  White  was  shot.  Indeed  the  picture  is 
still  so  complete  and  so  unchanged  that  one  can  scarcely 
believe  that  a  century  and  a  half  have  passed  since  that 
memorable  day  in  October,  1777. 

Nor  is  this  impression  dispelled  on  entering  the  house. 

234 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

Mrs.  Chew  (the  home  has  always  remained  in  the  Chew 
family)  was  at  home  on  the  afternoon  I  called,  and  gra- 
ciously volunteered  to  take  me  about  herself.  From  the 
main  doorway  I  entered  at  once  into  a  spacious  hall, 
almost  square  and  decorated  with  a  triple  arcade  oppo- 
site the  entrance.  Through  the  three  arches  you  per- 
ceive the  stairs  that  lead  to  the  second  story.  Old  fam- 
ily portraits,  a  "silhouette"  or  two,  several  historic 
engravings,  and  the  original  furniture  give  the  hall  dis- 
tinction. 

A  small  room  opens  off  at  either  side.  Treasured  in 
that  to  the  left,  Mrs.  Chew  drew  my  attention  to  the 
very  pair  of  oaken  doors  that  had  so  successfully  re- 
sisted the  American  attack,  battered  and  scarred,  it  is 
true,  but  not  broken  in  by  any  device  that  could  be 
brought  to  bear  against  them. 

Behind  these  two  rooms  open  two  others,  much  larger 
than  they — a  dining-room  and  a  drawing-room.  In  these 
also,  woodwork,  furniture,  pictures  are  all  in  perfect  ac- 
cord with  the  general  atmosphere  of  the  house  and  form 
a  rarely  complete  ensemble.  My  hostess,  too,  so  simple 
and  all  in  black,  fitted  admirably  into  the  picture,  espe- 
cially as  she  stepped  out  into  the  sunlight  when  I  was 
leaving  and  stood  with  her  hand  resting  on  one  of  the 
stone  lions  that  guard  the  stairs — a  perfect  embodiment 
of  quiet  distinction. 


235 


Ill 

VALLEY  FORGE 

WITH  Washington's  movements  after  German- 
town — "the  different  and  continual  move- 
ments of  the  Army  from  the  time  of  its  march 
from  Germantown  till  we  hutted  at  Valley  Forge,  the 
25th  of  Decr,"  to  use  his  own  words— we  shall  not  con- 
cern ourselves  here,  for  they  constituted  only  a  series  of 
minor  engagements  of  no  great  importance  to  the  general 
narrative.  So  we  shall  follow  him  directly  to  his  winter 
quarters  on  those  hills  beside  the  Schuylkill,  where  Isaac 
Potts  operated  his  forge  in  the  valley. 

The  army  arrived  there  a  few  days  before  Christmas, 
and  after  their  marches  and  countermarches,  with  no 
shoes  on  their  feet,  the  soldiers  hoped  to  find  some  re- 
pose, but  were  confronted  instead  with  a  new  array  of 
enemies — hunger  and  cold,  pestilence  and  discouragement. 
For  that  year  the  army  was  indeed  in  dire  straits;  never 
before  had  it  been  so  destitute.  On  the  23d  of  December 
Washington  reports  "two  thousand,  eight  hundred  and 
ninety-eight  men  were  unfit  for  duty  because  barefoot 
and  naked." 

His  officers  as  well  as  the  Assembly  of  Pennsylvania 
had  tried  in  vain  to  persuade  him  to  risk  all  on  the  issue 
of  one  more  decisive  battle,  but  he,  realizing  only  too 

236 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

well  the  condition  and  limitations  of  his  poor,  ragged 
troops,  wisely  adhered  to  his  own  plan  and  gave  orders 
to  build  the  winter  huts  on  the  hills  of  Valley  Forge. 

Do  you  know  what  Valley  Forge  looks  like  to-day? 
Have  you  ever  visited  this  shrine  "whereon  our  patri- 
otism should  delight  to  pile  its  highest  and  most  vener- 
ated monument"? 

If  so,  you  know  that  it  is  now  a  State  Park,  laid  out 
with  wide,  smooth  roads  and  decorated  with  a  profusion 
of  monuments,  both  great  and  small.  \\  hen  I  first  vis- 
ited it,  some  fifteen  years  ago,  it  was  still  an  uncultivated 
tract  of  land,  dotted  here  and  there  with  farms  and 
crossed  here  and  there  with  country  roads,  while  the 
remains  of  its  old  intrenchments  could  still  be  seen,  half 
hidden  by  a  sturdy  growth  of  trees.  Now  these  intrench- 
ments are  even  better  defined  and,  in  places,  planted 
with  blossoming  laurel,  while  broad  asphalt  roads  lead 
to  imposing  monuments  and  statues. 

I  wonder  which  is  the  right  impression.  The  motor- 
ist, the  hurried  tourist,  the  caravans  of  curious  that  visit 
it  from  Philadelphia  in  huge,  sightseeing  buses  will,  of 
course,  prefer  it  as  it  is  to-day.  But  the  pedestrian,  the 
poet,  the  dreamer  of  dreams,  and  the  lover  of  "atmos- 
phere" will  sigh  for  the  Valley  Forge  of  years  ago. 

And  truly,  given  its  traditions  and  pathetic  associa- 
tions, it  scarcely  seems  the  place  for  pompous  equestrian 
statues,  columns,  and  triumphal  arches.  Markers  to 
designate  the  placement  of  the  various  encampments — 
well  and  good,  and  the  more  of  them  the  better;   but  to 

237 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

destroy  the  solemnity  of  these  cheerless  hills  by  bronzes 
and  marble  monuments  seems  to  me  irrelevant  and  of 
questionable  taste.  It  is  only  too  evident  that  the  mo- 
tives that  prompted  the  erection  of  these  memorials  were 
of  the  best;  the  advice  of  a  more  enlightened  park  com- 
mission might  have  directed  their  activities  toward  a 
better  result. 

Valley  Forge  is  but  an  hour  from  Philadelphia  by  the 
railroad.  The  train  follows  all  the  way  along  the  Schuyl- 
kill, which,  at  first,  through  the  outer  industrial  districts 
of  the  city,  is  harnessed  by  mills  and  factories,  but  later 
flows  free  and  placid  between  well-wooded  hills. 

Beyond  East  Falls  we  crossed  the  Wissahickon,  whose 
banks  afford  the  favorite  drive  from  Germantown;  and 
beyond  Norristown  we  passed  to  the  west  bank  of  the 
river  and  soon  after  drew  up  at  the  station  of  Valley 
Forge— a  station  whose  long  colonnades  suggested  the 
crowds  that  at  times  arrive  here. 

Luckily,  the  morning  of  my  last  visit  I  was  almost 
the  only  passenger  to  alight,  so  I  wandered  off  quite  by 
myself.  The  railway-station  stands  very  near  the  house 
known  as  the  Washington  Headquarters.  In  it,  prior  to 
the  Revolution,  dwelt  Isaac  Potts,  who  operated  a  forge 
up  the  creek  that  here  flows  into  the  Schuylkill — the 
Valley  Creek,  as  it  was  called,  whence  the  name  Valley 
Forge. 

During  the  ''hutting"  of  the  troops  Washington  in- 
sisted upon  sharing  their  hardships  by  remaining  with 
them  in  his  marquee  up  on  the  slope  of  Mount  Joy. 

238 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

But  when  the  soldiers  were  securely  under  shelter  in  their 
log  huts  he  took  up  his  headquarters  in  this  stout  little 
Potts  house,  substantially  built  of  field  stone,  with  solid 
doors  and  window-shutters.     He  added  a  log  cabin  "to 


The  Old  Potts  House  at  Valley  Forge 


dine  in,  which  has  made  our  quarters  much  more  tolera- 
ble than  they  were  at  first,"  as  Airs.  Washington,  who 
joined  him  later,  writes  to  a  friend. 

And  truly  it  was  a  small  house  for  the  commanding 
general  of  an  army — with  but  two  little  rooms  on  the 
ground  floor  and  two  above,  with  a  few  steps  leading 
down  to  a  kitchen  and  to  the  dining-room  to  which  she 
alludes.     It  is  now  kept  in  perfect  repair;    its  old  wood- 

239 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

work  and  panelling  have  been  scraped  and  freshly  painted, 
and  it  has  been  appropriately  furnished  in  excellent  taste 
by  the  Norristown  Chapter  of  the  Daughters  of  the 
American  Revolution. 

In  the  field  near  by  the  life-guard  was  quartered,  and 
beyond  lay  General  Mcintosh's  brigade.  The  main  en- 
campments, however,  were  much  farther  away,  over  on 
the  other  slope  of  Mount  Joy. 

To  visit  these  various  camps  you  should  follow  up 
the  Valley  Creek,  a  sombre  and  romantic  stream  that 
on  dark  days  runs  so  silently  and  so  stealthily  under 
the  overhanging  branches  that  it  recalls  some  tragic  vale 
in  Dante. 

Beyond  the  site  of  the  forge  and  the  spring,  you  reach 
a  covered  bridge,  at  which  you  turn  to  the  left  up  the 
hill  and  soon  come  upon  General  Knox's  quarters — a 
farm  now  owned  by  Senator  Knox.  From  this  point 
begins  the  long  succession  of  encampments,  each  divi- 
sion marked  by  one  or  more  monuments.  The  first  of 
these  is  a  monument  to  unknown  soldiers;  then  one  to 
Baron  von  Steuben,  taking  the  form  of  a  portrait  statue 
erected  by  the  German-American  Alliance  in  1915.  Be- 
yond it  a  reconstruction  of  one  of  the  log  huts  designates 
the  site  of  the  camp  hospital.  On  the  hill  above  you 
catch  a  glimpse  of  Fort  Washington. 

The  first  troops  along  this  line  were  those  of  Scott's 
and  Woodford's  brigades;  then  came  the  Pennsylvanians 
under  General  Anthony  Wayne.  A  great  equestrian 
statue  of  this  general  here  dominates  the  landscape,  the 

240 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

gallant  Pennsylvania!!  turning  in  his  saddle  to  gaze  far 
out  across  the  broad  Chester  valley,  here  revealed  for  a 
great  distance,  as  if  eagerly  scanning  its  undulations  in 
quest  of  an  approaching  enemy.  The  intrenchments 
that  protected  his  division  are  still  plainly  visible  in  the 
woods  that  skirt  the  road. 

General  Poor's  command  came  next  and  completed 
this  first  salient  of  intrenchments,  for  here  the  brow  of 
the  hill  deflects  and,  turning  sharply  backward,  forms  a 
second  line  nearer  to  the  Schuylkill.  The  road  turns 
with  it  and  passes,  on  the  highest  ground,  a  massive  arch 
erected  by  the  United  States  Government — the  Wash- 
ington Memorial  Arch,  as  it  is  called — inscribed  with 
Washington's  own  tribute  to  his  men  written  in  a  letter 
to  Governor  Clinton:  "Naked  and  starving  as  they  are, 
we  can  not  enough  admire  the  incomparable  patience 
and  fidelity  of  the  soldiery."  And  surely  every  man 
who  passed  that  winter  in  Valley  Forge,  with  its  wretched 
sicknesses  and  high  mortality,  its  hunger  and  its  cold,  was 
a  patriot  of  whom  his  descendants  may  well  be  proud. 

Beyond  the  arch  a  plinth  with  a  widely  curving  seat 
serves  as  Massachusetts'  tribute  to  her  soldiers  who  occu- 
pied this  position  under  Glover  and  Learned.  Patter- 
son's, WTeedon's,  and  Muhlenberg's  divisions  came  next, 
stretching  from  here  down  to  the  Schuylkill,  where  they 
were  flanked  by  a  redoubt. 

Instead  of  following  this  line,  you  should  now  return 
to  the  arch  and  take  the  Old  Gulch  Road,  that  leads  back 
through  the  valley  toward  Washington's  Headquarters. 

241 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Down  in  the  hollow,  you  find  the  Camp  School  built  in 
1705.  Though  still  furnished  with  its  old  desks  and 
benches  ranged  along  the  wall,  and  with  the  pegs  for  the 
children's  hats  and  coats,  it  is  now  a  diminutive  museum, 
presided  over  by  an  aged  veteran  who  triumphantly 
points  out,  gathered  about  it,  various  trophies  in  the 
shape  of  captured  cannon. 

From  the  Camp  School  you  may  ascend  Mount  Joy 
and  see  the  main  redoubt,  called  Fort  Washington,  whose 
parapets,  now  restored  and  set  out  with  artillery,  command 
a  splendid  panorama  of  all  the  surrounding  country. 
Hence  another  line  of  intrenchments  leads  down  to  the 
Star  Redoubt,  that  overlooked  the  Schuylkill  and  the 
temporary  bridge.  We  are  now  again  near  Washington's 
Headquarters,  and  have  completed  our  circuit  of  the 
Revolutionary  camp-ground. 


,    I         View  from  Fort  Huntington,  Looking  toward 

- LA  J         Fort  Washington 


Washingtc 

242 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 


There  are  many  more  markers  and  monuments  than 
I  have  noted,  but  such  is  the  main  topography  of  the 
camp  at  Valley  Forge,  whose  hills  are  filled  with  memories 
of  the  ardent  patriots  who  passed  that  dreary  winter  there, 
sleeping  in  the  rude  log  huts 
on  bunks  of  straw — when 
they  could  get  it — for  even 
straw  was  a  difficult  thing 
to  obtain  and  many  died  for 
the  lack  of  it.  "Unprovided 
with  this,  or  materials  to 
raise  them  from  the  cold  and 
wet  earth,  sickness  and  mor- 
tality have  spread  through 
their  quarters  in  an  aston- 
ishing degree.  Nothing  can 
equal  their  sufferings,  except 
the  patience  and  fortitude 
with  which  the  faithful  part 
of  the  army  endure  it."  * 

This  winter  at  Valley 
Forge  was  probably  the 

most  trying  of  Washington's  life.  The  sufferings  of  his 
soldiers  touched  him  deeply  and  he  endeavored  in  every 
way  to  alleviate  their  distress.  But  the  winter  was  a 
bitter  and  a  gloomy  one  and  tried  his  fortitude  to  the 
utmost.  Isaac  Potts  relates  that  one  day  while  wan- 
dering in  the  woods   near  his  forge  he  heard   a  voice. 

*  Report  of  the  Committee  of  Arrangement  of  Congress. 
243 


Bell  Used  in  Camp  at  Valley  Forge 


R  E  V  O  L  U  T  1  0  IN  A  R  Y    PILGRIMAGE 

Silently  advancing,  he  saw  a  horse  tied  to  a  tree,  and 
near  it  his  venerated  guest,  kneeling  upon  the  ground, 
his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  praying.  Awed  as  if  he  had 
intruded  upon  some  holy  scene,  Potts  quietly  withdrew 
and  made  his  way  back  to  his  forge.  This  is  the  Wash- 
ington that  we  must  remember  in  our  times  of  trouble 
—not  only  the  successful  general  and  able  President  but 
the  man  who  knew  how  to  face  adversity  and  grapple 
with  it. 

To  add  to  his  troubles,  the  "Conway  cabal"  came  to 
a  climax  in  the  middle  of  that  winter.  General  Conway, 
a  schemer,  by  political  intrigue  and  pressure  upon  Con- 
gress, had  tried  to  have  Washington  superseded  as 
commander-in-chief  by  Horatio  Gates,  whose  brilliant 
capture  of  Burgoyne  and  his  army  (through  no  particu- 
lar merit  of  his  own)  he  contrasted  with  Washington's  ill 
success  at  the  Brandywine  and  Germantown.  Wash- 
ington boldly  faced  his  critics,  quietly  winning  most  of 
them  over,  so  that  Conway,  in  dudgeon,  resigned  his 
commission  as  inspector-general  of  the  army.  To  his 
astonishment,  this  resignation  was  accepted,  and  the 
Baron  von  Steuben,  who  had  just  arrived  in  America, 
was  appointed  in  his  place. 

Von  Steuben  quickly  became  the  man  of  the  hour. 
"Officers  and  men  alike  were  placed  under  the  rigid 
training  of  this  veteran  martinet  .  .  .  ;  and  the  effects 
of  his  stern  discipline  and  exacting  drill  were  of  per- 
manent value."  * 

*  Colonel  Henry  B.  Carrington,  "Battles  of  the  Revolution." 
244 


ROUND    ABOUT    PHILADELPHIA 

Here  is  a  soldier's  estimate  of  this  patriot  army, 
written  by  one  of  its  enemies,  Captain  Johann  Heinrichs 
of  the  Hessian  Yager  Corps,  among  whose  letters  to  his 
brother  I  find  the  following,  dated  Philadelphia,  January 
18,  1778: 

"Nor  is  their  standing  army  to  be  despised  ...  as 
they  are,  per  se,  a  brave  nation,  which  bravery  is  sur- 
prisingly enhanced  by  the  enthusiasm,  engendered  by 
falsehood  and  vagaries,  which  are  drilled  into  them,  so 
that  it  but  requires  time  and  good  leadership  to  make 
them  formidable.  .  .  . 

"The  enemy  is  encamped  in  huts  in  Wilmington  and 
Valley  Forge,  and  Washington  and  Stirling  have  wagered 
as  to  who  had  the  best  huts  erected.  .  .  .  Our  army 
x.y.z.  strong,  lies  in  Philadelphia,  which  is  fortified  by 
eleven  redoubts  and  one  outpost;  we  are  supplied  with 
all  that  is  necessary  and  superfluous.  Assemblies,  Con- 
certs, Comedies,  Clubs  and  the  like  make  us  forget  there 
is  any  war,  save  that  it  is  a  capital  joke." 

There  are  the  two  pictures.  The  ragged,  shivering 
Continentals,  their  feet  wrapped  in  rags,  borrowing  from 
each  other  the  blankets  in  which  they  were  to  mount 
guard — cold,  hungry,  but  filled  with  patriotism,  "their 
bravery  surprisingly  enhanced  by  the  enthusiasm  engen- 
dered by  falsehood  and  vagaries,"  but  benefiting  by 
"good  leadership  to  make  them  formidable";  while  the 
British  army  was  weakening  itself  in  a  life  of  indolence 
and  pleasure  in  snug  Philadelphia,  "supplied  with  all 
that  is  necessary  and  superfluous,"  so  that  war  was  a 
"capital  joke." 

245 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Rut  when  the  icy  barriers  broke  and  spring  was  in  the 
air  a  ray  of  hope  dawned  for  the  patriots — a  gleam  of 
encouragement  shot  from  across  the  sea.  La  Sensible, 
frigate,  toward  the  first  of  May,  anchored  in  Falmouth 
Harbor,  Maine,  and  a  French  herald  stepped  ashore  to 
announce  an  armed  alliance  between  his  country  and 
the  United  States. 

The  news  reached  Valley  Forge  soon  after,  and  one  May 
morning  the  ragged  Continentals,  their  uniforms  patched 
and  mended,  were  drawn  up  on  parade.  The  treaty  of 
alliance  was  read  from  the  head  of  the  army;  the  chap- 
lains of  each  regiment  advanced  to  the  front  of  their 
men  and  led  them  as  "in  solemn  silence,  the  army  at 
Valley  Forge  united  in  thanksgiving  to  Almighty  God 
that  he  had  given  them  one  friend  on  earth." 

Then,  at  a  signal,  thirteen  cannon  were  fired,  followed 
by  a  running  fire  of  musketry  up  and  down  the  line, 
and  the  whole  army  shouted:  "Long  live  the  King  of 
France!"  Again  the  thirteen  cannon,  again  the  rattle 
of  musketry;  then  the  cry:  "Long  live  the  friendly  Eu- 
ropean Powers!"  A  third  and  last  discharge,  and  a 
mighty  shout:    "The  American  Stales!" 


246 


PHILADELPHIA 


PHILADELPHIA 

AS  a  contrast  to  this  picture  of  Valley  Forge  it  is 

/%  now  my  purpose  to  follow  the  British  into  Phila- 
M.  jL.  delphia  and  depict  some  of  the  "Assemblies, 
Concerts,  Comedies,  and  Clubs"  of  which  our  Yager  cap- 
tain speaks — the  gayeties  of  that  winter  when  officers  and 
soldiers  alike  were  welcomed  and  indulgently  petted  by 
the  rich  Tories  and  neutral  Quakers  of  the  city. 

But  before  we  do  this  Jet  us  for  a  moment  take  a  retro- 
spective glance  at  the  city,  so  as  to  see  it  as  it  then  ap- 
peared, and  awake  some  of  its  memories. 

At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  Philadelphia  was  just 
beginning  to  grow  into  the  plan  that  William  Penn  had 
laid  out  for  it.  He  had  conceived  that  it  would  some 
day  centre,  as  it  now  does,  where  its  two  principal  streets, 
Broad  and  Market,  cross  each  other.  But,  owing  to  the 
commercial  facilities  of  the  Delaware  River,  the  build- 
ings, in  colonial  days,  had  all  followed  "along  the  Dela- 
ware for  the  convenience  of  being  near  the  warehouses 
and  shipping.  Front  Street,  which  is  parallel  with  the 
river,  is  near  three  miles  long,  and  out  of  it  open  up- 
wards of  two  hundred  quays,  forming  so  many  vistas 
terminated  by  vessels  of  different  sizes."* 

Market  Street,  then  called  High  Street,  was  consid- 
ered of  great  breadth  and  length,  and  "would  be,"  ac- 

*  De  Chastellux,  "Travels  in  North  America." 
249 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

cording  to  a  resident,  "one  of  the  finest  streets  in  the 
world,  were  it  not  for  the  market  situated  in  the  middle 
of  it;  but  the  upper  part  is  occupied  by  the  houses  of 
opulent  citizens  and  will  in  time  become  truly  noble." 

As  I  have  said,  the  thickly  populated  section  still 
centred  along  the  Delaware  water-front,  so  that  it  is 
down  in  that  section  of  the  city  that  we  still  find  all  the 
landmarks  of  the  days  of  the  Revolution. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  reminders  of  this  period 
stands  near  the  foot  of  Chestnut  Street,  between  Third 
and  Fourth,  in  a  narrow  alley  that  opens  between  two 
modern  buildings,  widening  behind  them  into  a  sort  of 
square.  Upon  this  little  quadrangle  faces  Carpenter's 
Hall,  quite  shut  off  from  all  the  world  nowadays  by  the 
tall  structures  that  surround  it.  Its  fagade  of  red  brick 
diapered  with  glazed  black  headers,  its  pediment,  its 
three  arched  windows  above  and  simple  but  well-pro- 
portioned door  below,  flanked  on  either  side  by  a  shut- 
tered window,  all  retain  their  original  character  intact. 

Yet  this  modest  building,  so  humble,  so  retiring,  so 
shyly  tucked  away  from  the  bustle  and  traffic  about  it, 
was,  so  to  speak,  the  birthplace  of  our  nation.  For  in 
it,  just  prior  to  the  Revolution,  the  first  assemblage  of 
delegates  from  the  American  colonies  convened  to  dis- 
cuss their  grievances  against  the  mother  country. 

To  this  Congress  came  such  men  as  the  two  Adamses 
and  Robert  Treat  Paine  from  Massachusetts;  Eliphalet 
Dyer,  Roger  Sherman,  and  Silas  Deane  from  Connecticut; 
John  Jay,  Isaac  Low,  and  Philip  Livingston  from  New 

250 


PHILADELPHIA 

York;  Thomas  Mifflin,  Edward  Biddle,  and  John  Dickin- 
son from  Pennsylvania;  Henry  Middleton,  the  Rutledges, 
and  Christopher  Gadsden  from  South  Carolina;  while 
Virginia  sent  her  favorite  sons — Peyton  Randolph,  Rich- 
ard Henry  Lee,  George  Washington,  Patrick  Henry, 
Benjamin  Harrison,  Edmund  Pendleton,  and  Richard 
Bland. 

On  the  5th  of  September,  1774,  these  delegates  met  in 
Carpenter's  Hall.  The  assembly-room,  as  we  see  it  to- 
day, remains  quite  as  these  fathers  of  our  country  be- 
held it — a  large,  bare  chamber,  buff  in  color,  whose  only 
architectural  embellishments  are  the  two  Ionic  columns 
that  form  a  sort  of  screen  before  the  alcove  opposite  the 
entrance  door.     The  walls  are  hung  with  the  souvenirs 


The  Assembly  Room,  Carpenter's  Hall 


251 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

and  photographs  that  form  the  precious  heritage  of  the 
Carpenters'  Company,  that  still  uses  the  building  as  its 
headquarters.  Some  of  the  original  Windsor  chairs  stand 
behind  a  railing  and  the  speaker's  desk  has  been  placed 
just  where  it  used  to  stand  when  this  first  Continental 
Congress  convened. 

So  the  picture  can  become  quite  vivid  if  you  sit  quietly 
in  a  corner  and  call  it  to  mind. 

There,  at  the  speaker's  table,  sat  Peyton  Randolph  of 
Virginia,  then  in  his  fiftieth  year,  with  Charles  Thomson 
of  Pennsylvania,  the  secretary,  beside  him — a  "meagre 
figure,  with  hollow  eye  and  white  hair  that  did  not  fall 
quite  so  low  as  his  ears."  Ranged  round  the  walls  in 
their  straight  Windsor  chairs  sat  the  other  fifty-three 
delegates — the  best  men  that  the  colonies  had  to  give, 
"a  collection  of  the  greatest  men  upon  this  continent  in 
point  of  abilities,  virtues,  and  fortunes,"  as  John  Adams 
expressed  it. 

The  first  sitting  was  occupied  with  routine  and  the 
presentation  of  credentials.  At  the  second  sitting  came 
a  pause.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Who  would  open  that 
grave  debate?  No  one  seemed  disposed  to  start  so  mo- 
mentous a  discussion.  Then  a  quiet-looking,  serious  mem- 
ber arose,  dressed  in  sober  black,  wearing  an  unpowdered 
wig,  with,  perhaps,  his  spectacles  thrown  up  upon  his 
forehead,  as  Sully  afterward  painted  him — so  simple  a 
figure,  so  unostentatious,  that  the  question  rose  to  every 
lip:  "Who  is  he?"  And  the  word  went  round,  "Patrick 
Henry  of  Virginia" — he  who  had   electrified  the  entire 

252 


PHILADELPHIA 

country  a  few  months  before  with  his  ringing  words: 
"Give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death !" 

Deliberately  he  began  to  recite  the  wrongs  inflicted 
upon  the  colonies;  deliberately  he  declared  all  govern- 
ment dissolved  and  that  a  new  one  should  be  formed. 
He  discussed  the  representation  of  each  colony  in  the  Con- 
tinental Congress,  allotting  to  each  delegates  in  propor- 
tion to  its  population,  and  he  concluded  by  declaring 
that  all  boundaries  were  now  effaced:  "The  distinctions 
between  Virginians,  Pennsylvanians,  New  Yorkers  and 
New  Englanders  are  no  more.  I  am  not  a  Virginian,  but 
an  American." 

The  discussion  was  now  begun;  various  members  spoke, 
and  John  Jay,  dissenting  from  Patrick  Henry's  conclu- 
sions, exclaimed:  "I  cannot  yet  think  that  we  came  to 
frame  an  American  constitution,  instead  of  endeavoring 
to  correct  the  faults  in  an  old  one.  The  measure  of  ar- 
bitrary power  is  not  full,  and  it  must  run  over  before 
we  undertake  to  frame  a  new  constitution." 

On  the  7th  of  September  news  of  serious  clashes  be- 
tween General  Gage  and  the  people  of  Boston  reached 
the  Congress,  as  it  opened  its  session  with  prayer.  The 
Reverend  Mr.  Duche  read  the  Psalter  for  that  day,  a  part 
of  which  happened  to  be  the  thirty-fifth  Psalm  of  David, 
and  John  Adams  wrote  his  wife:  " It  seemed  as  if  Heaven 
had  ordained  that  Psalm  to  be  read  that  morning. ' '  These 
are  a  portion  of  its  strangely  prophetic  words: 

"Plead  my  cause,  0  Lord,  with  them  that  strive  with 
me;    and  fight  thou  against  them  that  fight  against  me. 

253 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

.  .  .  Take  hold  of  shield  and  buckler,  and  stand  up  for 
mine  help.  Draw  out  also  the  spear  and  stop  the  way 
against  them  that  persecute  me. 

"Who  is  like  unto  thee,  which  deliverest  the  poor  from 
him  that  is  too  strong  for  him;  yea,  the  poor  and  needy 
from  him  that  spoileth  him?" 

Then  the  minister,  unexpectedly  to  everybody,  launched 
into  an  extemporaneous  prayer  "for  the  Congress,  for 
the  province  of  Massachusetts  Ray,  and  especially  for 
the  town  of  Roston."  "I  must  confess,  I  never  heard 
a  better  prayer  or  one  so  well  pronounced,"  says  Adams. 
Members  of  all  denominations  joined  in  it  fervently,  but 
Rishop  White,  who  was  present,  tells  us  that  George 
Washington  was  the  only  member  to  kneel. 

Rut  a  short  way  farther  up  Chestnut  Street  stands  Inde- 
pendence Hall-^the  old  State  House — historically,  at  least, 
the  most  interesting  and  evocative  building  in  the  city. 
Little  by  little,  during  recent  years,  it  has  undergone  a 
thorough  restoration,  so  that  it  now  stands  quite  as  the 
old  prints  depict  it  in  Revolutionary  times.  I  present 
the  drawing  that  I  made  of  it  some  years  ago.  The  cen- 
tral or  main  building  remains  as  it  is  shown,  but  since 
then  the  end  pavilions  have  been  restored  to  their  sim- 
pler form,  the  small  domes  have  been  removed,  and  the 
arcades  between  them  and  the  main  building  replaced. 
As  it  now  stands  the  edifice  is  a  splendid  example  of  our 
sturdy  colonial  architecture,  typical  of  the  stanch  simplic- 
ity of  the  men  who  built  it. 

Upon  entering  you  find  yourself  at  once  in  a  spacious 

254 


PHILADELPHIA 

hall,  whose  fluted  columns,  panels,  and  cornices,  vigorous 
in  detail  and  simple  in  design,  accord  well  with  the  spirit 
of  the  age  in  which  they  were  built — honest,  devoid  of 

r     v 


Independence  Hall,  Chestnut  Street  Front 


\^l 


needless  ornament,  with  no  unnecessary  carving  or  gild- 
ing.    Such  was  the  good  taste  of  the  epoch. 

Through  an  archway  opposite  you  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  old  Liberty  Bell,  whose  voice  proclaimed  to  the  wait- 
ing multitude  the  ratification  of  the  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence. The  arch  to  the  right  gives  access  to  the 
supreme-court  room,  with  its  bench  for  the  justices  still 

255 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

in  place  and  their  serene  faces,  honestly  painted,  looking 
down  from  the  walls.  The  arch  to  the  left  leads  into  the 
Declaration  Chamber,  as  it  is  now  called. 

Like  the  remainder  of  the  building,  this  is  in  simple 
but  excellent  taste,  dignified  yet  free  from  ostentation. 
Pilasters  divide  its  walls  into  large  equal  compartments; 
spacious  windows,  both  front  and  rear,  give  upon  the 
street  and  upon  the  park  that  lies  behind  the  building. 
A  handsome  crystal  lustre  is  the  room's  only  luxury. 

The  original  speaker's  chair,  with  his  desk  and  his  ink- 
well, stands  upon  a  dais  at  the  far  end  of  the  room. 
Over  the  desk  hangs  a  facsimile  of  the  immortal  docu- 
ment that  was  signed  upon  it.  During  the  momentous 
sessions  of  the  summer  of  1776  this  chair  was  occupied 
by  John  Hancock  of  Boston — then  a  vigorous  young  man 
of  forty,  in  appearance  as  Copley  painted  him,  his  fine, 
firm  features  framed  in  an  uncurled  wig  and  white  neck- 
cloth. Beside  him,  at  the  secretary's  desk,  sat  Charles 
Thomson,  whom  we  have  already  met  in  Carpenter's 
Hall.  The  other  delegates  were  seated  in  leather  chairs, 
about  twenty  of  which  are  still  ranged  around  the  walls 
marked  with  the  names  of  the  men  who  occupied  them. 

On  the  2d  of  July,  1776,  the  Continental  Congress, 
convened  in  this  room  with  forty-nine  members  present, 
voted,  without  a  dissenting  voice,  "that  these  united  col- 
onies are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent 
states;  that  they  are  absolved  from  all  allegiance  to  the 
British  crown,  and  that  all  political  connection  between 
them  and  the  state  of  Great  Britain  is,  and  ought  to  be, 

256 


PHILADELPHIA 

dissolved."     Two  days  later  it  ratified  the  Declaration 
of  Independence. 

The  precious  original  document  is  preserved  among  the 


I" 

# 


& 


Room  in  Which  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  Signed 

archives  of  the  State  Department  in  Washington,  badly 
faded  owing  to  a  mishap  in  making  a  copy  of  it. 

In  this  same  State  Department  library  I  found  the 
original  draft  of  the  Declaration  in  Thomas  Jefferson's 
own  handwriting,  clear  and  manful  as  his  firm  words 
and  thoughts.     It  shows  some  slight  alterations  and  re- 

257 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

visions,  made  when  it  was  submitted  to  two  of  the 
other  members  of  the  committee,  Renjamin  Franklin 
and  John  Adams,  whose  interlineations  are  thus  plainly 


View  of  Independence  Hall  from  the  Park  Side 


marked:    =  Dr.  Franklin's  handwriting;    *  Mr.  Adams's 
handwriting. 

In  this  library  also  is  a  letter  written  by  Thomas 
Jefferson  that  will  interest  us  in  this  connection.  It  lies 
in  a  case  beside  his  writing-case  and  is  dated  "  Monticello, 
Sept.  16,  '25."     In  answer  to  an  inquiry  he  replies: 

258 


PHILADELPHIA 


"At  the  time  of  writing  that  instrument  (the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence)  I  lodged  in  the  house  of  a  Mr. 
Graaf,  a  new  brick  house  three  stories  high  of  which  I 
rented  the  second  floor  consisting  of  parlour,  bed-room 
ready  furnished;  in  that  parlour  I  wrote  habitually  and 
in  it  wrote  this  paper  particularly.  .  .  .  The  proprietor 
Graaf,  was  a  young  man,  son  of  a  German  and  then  newly 
married.  I  think  he  was  a  bricklayer  and  that  his  house 
was  on  the  south  side  of  Market  Street  probably  between 
Seventh  and  Eighth." 

The  news  of  the  ratifica- 
tion of  the  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence was  announced 
to  the  people,  as  I  have  said, 
by  the  ringing  of  the  bell 
in  the  State  House  steeple. 
This  historic  Liberty  Bell — 
the  bell  so  portentously  in- 
scribed with  a  line  from  the 
Scriptures,  "Proclaim  lib- 
erty throughout  all  the  land, 
unto  all  the  inhabitants 
thereof" — is  now  placed  at 
the  back  of  the  hallway  in 
the  stair-well.  Now  no 
longer  does  it  swing  aloft, 
but,  cracked  and  voiceless 
in  its  ripe  old  age,  reposes 
comfortably  and  peacefully 


on  solid  ground. 


Stairway  in  Independence  Hall 


259 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

The  main  stairs  lead  you  up  to  the  banquet-hall,  that 
extends  across  the  entire  front  of  the  building.  In  its 
day  it  saw  many  notable  gatherings,  such  as  a  dinner  of 
three  hundred  covers  given  by  leading  citizens  to  cele- 
brate the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act,  and  another  to  wel- 
come the  delegates  to  the  First  Continental  Congress. 
In  rooms  adjoining  hang  portraits  of  many  of  the  gentle- 
men who  banqueted  at  its  tables,  or  sat  in  deliberation 
in  the  rooms  below — patriots,  merchants,  bankers,  ju- 
rists, and  the  generals  whose  campaigns  we  have  been 
following:  Greene,  Gates,  Lincoln,  and  Knox;  handsome 
Anthony  Wayne,  courtly  Schuyler,  blue-eyed,  ruddy 
Daniel  Morgan;  and  the  Southerners:  bold  Marion,  the 
Pinckneys  of  Charleston,  and  Colonel  William  Washing- 
ton, whose  exploits  we  shall  review  later  on;  while  from 
still  another  group  look  down  the  foreign  officers — La- 
fayette, Rochambeau,  de  Grasse,  Steuben,  Pulaski,  and 
Kosciusko — who  aided  us  to  success. 

Philadelphia  is  particularly  rich  in  these  historic  por- 
traits. Over  in  the  rooms  of  the  Historical  Society  of 
Pennsylvania  hangs  another  fine  collection  of  them — 
pictures  of  even  higher  artistic  merit  than  those  in  In- 
dependence Hall.  In  cases  there  are  also  many  interest- 
ing mementos  of  Revolutionary  days,  such  as  Franklin's 
punch-keg,  Robert  Morris's  strong  box,  beautifully  bound 
in  brass  (but,  oh,  how  small  for  a  multimillionaire !),  rare 
prints,  and  books  rarer  still,  and  in  a  corner  of  the  gallery 
cork  models  of  some  of  the  historic  houses  that  have  disap- 
peared :  the  old  court-house,  squatting  on  its  stout  arcades; 

260 


PHILADELPHIA 


"Loxley's  House,"  that  used  to  stand  in  South  Second 
Street  and  in  which  dwelt  brave  Lydia  Darrach,  who 
apprised  Washington  of  the  intended  attack  at  White- 
marsh;  the  famous  "Slate  Roof  House,"  once  occupied 
by  William  Penn;  and  General  Howe's  headquarters  that 
used  to  stand  in  High  Street  (now  Market)  near  Sixth. 

Philadelphia  still  retains  one  old  house  that  is  the  ob- 
ject of  many  a  pious  pilgrimage — a  little  two-story  affair 
about  fifteen  feet  wide, 
with  but  a  single  dormer 
in  its  roof — squeezed  in 
between  a  number  of 
structures  of  more  recent 
date  down  on  Arch  Street, 
near  the  river.  Well-au- 
thenticated tradition  has  ~ 
it  that  here  Betsy  Ross  - 
made  the  first  American 
flag. 

Up  to  the  first  day  of 
January,  1776,  there  had 
been  no  regular  emblem 
for  the  revolted  colonies. 
Upon  that  New  Year's 
Day  a  flag  of  thirteen 
stripes — the  "rebellious 
stripes" — but  still  retain- 
ing the  British  union  in 

its    Corner,    was    unfurled         The  Betsy  Ross  House 

261 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

at  the  head  of  the  newly  organized  Continental  Army  at 
Cambridge;  but  it  was  not  until  June  14,  1777,  that  Con- 
gress took  definite  action  and  resolved  "that  the  flag  of 
the  thirteen  United  States  be  thirteen  stripes  alternate 
red  and  white;  that  the  Union  be  thirteen  stars,  white 
in  a  blue  field,  representing  a  new  constellation." 

Betsy's  husband,  George  Ross,  was  a  lawyer,  a  signer 
t)f  the  Declaration,  and  a  member  of  this  Congress,  and 
tradition  depicts  him  and  his  wife  receiving  George 
Washington  and  Robert  Morris  in  the  little  back  room 
of  the  "Betsy  Ross  house,"  near  the  old  fireplace  with 
its  blue  tiles,  to  show  them  the  first  flag  made  according 
to  the  terms  of  this  resolution. 

In  an  up-stairs  room  of  the  Jumel  Mansion  in  New 
York  (see  page  165)  hangs  a  patched  piece  of  toile  de 
Jouy,  or  printed  calico,  stamped  with  a  curious  allegory, 
presumably  of  French  fabrication  and  closely  tied  to  the 
design  of  this  first  American  flag,  perhaps  a  precursor  of 
it.  My  attention  was  called  to  it  by  the  curator,  who 
shares  this  opinion.  As  is  usual  in  such  prints,  the  de- 
sign is  made  by  two  scenes  used  alternately.  One  de- 
picts Washington,  standing  in  a  chariot  beside  a  figure 
bearing  Mercury's  wand  and  showing  upon  her  shield  the 
inscription,  "American  Independence,  1776."  The  chariot 
is  drawn  by  leopards  led  by  Indian  boys  blowing  trumpets, 
from  which  depend  two  flags — one  the  Serpent  Flag  of 
Maryland,  the  other  a  flag  of  thirteen  stripes.  The 
second  scene  shows  Franklin,  accompanied  by  Liberty, 
bearing  an  inscription,  "Where  Liberty  dwells,  there  is 

262 


PHILADELPHIA 

my  country,"  and  guided  toward  a  Temple  of  Fame  by  a 
figure  of  War,  whose  shield  is  painted  with  thirteen  stars, 
the  "new  constellation."  Thus,  in  the  union  of  the  two 
scenes  the  original  Stars  and  Stripes  appear. 

There  is  another  picture  closely  wedded  to  Franklin 
and  his  family  that  I  wish  now  to  present — also  a  French 
interpretation,  written  for  us  by  the  Marquis  de  Chastel- 
lux,  who  was  taken  about  in  Philadelphia,  toward  the 
close  of  the  Revolution,  to  see  its  people  and  its  sights. 

"First  we  began  by  visiting  Mrs.  Bache.  She  merits 
all  the  anxiety  we  had  to  see  her,  for  she  is  the  daughter 
of  Mr.  Franklin.  Simple  in  her  manners,  like  her  re- 
spectable father,  she  possesses  his  benevolence.  She  con- 
ducted us  into  a  room  filled  with  work,  lately  finished  by 
the  ladies  of  Philadelphia.  This  work  consisted  neither 
of  embroidered  tambour  waistcoats,  nor  network  edgings, 
nor  of  gold  and  silver  brocade — it  was  a  quantity  of  shirts 
for  the  soldiers  of  Pennsylvania.  The  ladies  bought  the 
linen  from  their  private  purses,  and  took  a  pleasure  in 
cutting  them  out  and  sewing  them  themselves.  On  each 
shirt  was  the  name  of  the  married  or  unmarried  lady  who 
made  it,  and  they  amounted  to  twenty  two  hundred."* 

Does  this  sound  like  a  picture  of  a  century  or  more 
ago  or  one  of  yesterday  ? 

During  the  British  occupation  (and  this  brings  us  back 
to  the  main  thread  of  our  narrative)  Benjamin  Franklin's 
house,  that  stood  in  a  court  off  High  Street,  was  occupied 
by  Major,  then  Captain,  Andre,  whose  tragic  fate  we  have 

*  "Travels  in  North  America." 
263 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

witnessed  at  Tappan.  He  was  a  brilliant  officer,  a  charm- 
ing gentleman  and  a  dilettante,  expressing  himself  with 
facility  and  felicity  in  all  the  arts.  Franklin's  daughter, 
the  Mrs.  Bache  above  referred  to,  writes  to  her  father  in 
Paris  after  Andre's  departure: 

"I  found  your  house  and  furniture,  upon  my  return 
to  town  in  much  better  order  than  I  had  reason  to  expect 
from  the  hands  of  such  a  rapacious  crew.  They  stole 
and  carried  off  with  them  some  of  your  musical  instru- 
ments, viz.,  a  Welsh  harp,  a  ball  harp,  a  set  of  tuned 
bells  which  were  in  a  box,  a  viol-da-gamba,  all  the  spare 
armonica  glasses  and  one  or  two  spare  cases.  Your 
armonica*  is  safe.  They  took  likewise  the  few  books  that 
were  left  behind,  the  chief  of  which  were  Temple's  school- 
books  and  the  History  of  the  Arts  and  Sciences  in  French 
which  is  a  great  loss  to  the  public.  Some  of  your  elec- 
tric apparatus  is  missing;  also  a  Captain  Andre  took 
with  him  a  picture  of  you  which  hung  in  the  dining  room." 

Artistic  robbers,  certainly,  these  pilferers  who  stole 
harps  and  violins,  rare  books  and  historic  portraits — 
thieves  of  refinement ! 

Not  all  the  inhabitants  of  Philadelphia  fared  as  well, 
for  the  British  officers  were  indeed  a  "rapacious  crew." 
General  Howe  "seized  and  kept  for  his  own  use,  Mary 
Pemberton's  coach  and  horses  in  which  he  used  to  ride 

*  These  old  musical  instruments,  first  introduced  by  Benjamin  Franklin, 
are  to  be  seen  in  museums,  and  I  have  heard  them  played  on  several  occa- 
sions. Kindly  Miss  Custis  played  a  set  of  these  "musical  glasses"  for  me 
in  her  home  in  Williamsburg,  tuning  them  with  water  to  the  right  note, 
and  then  playing  them  by  passing  the  wet  finger  round  the  edges. 

264 


PHILADELPHIA 

about  town."  *  The  officers,  quartered  upon  the  in- 
habitants, spent  their  days  in  gambling  and  other  equally 
profitable  pastimes,  and  their  nights  at  entertainments. 
"By  a  proportionate  tax  on  the  pay  and  allowances  of 
each  officer,  a  house  was  opened  for  daily  resort  and 
weekly  balls,  with  a  gaming-table  and  a  room  devoted 
to  the  players  of  chess."  Three  times  a  week  plays  were 
enacted  by  the  officers,  and  Major  Andre  and  Captain 
Delancey  were  the  chief  scene-painters,  the  former's 
waterfall  curtain  remaining  in  the  Southwark  Theatre 
until  that  building  was  torn  down.  The  younger  officers, 
following  the  example  of  some  of  the  older  ones,  played 
for  heavy  stakes  and  openly  gave  way  to  their  vices, 
two  of  them  impudently  advertising  in  a  paper  for  "a 
young  woman,  to  act  in  capacity  of  housekeeper.  Ex- 
travagant wages  will  be  given  and  no  character  required." 

With  the  spring  came  news  of  Sir  William  Howe's 
recall  to  England.  As  "he  was  much  beloved  by  his 
officers  and  soldiers  for  his  generosity  and  affability," 
his  departure  was  viewed  as  nothing  short  of  a  calamity. 
So  a  great  fete  was  planned  as  a  testimonial  of  this  devo- 
tion of  the  army  to  its  general — a  festival  the  most 
elaborate  that  America  had  witnessed  up  to  that  time, 
whose  extravagance  was  severely  criticised  by  both 
Whigs  and  Tories  and  did  much  to  alienate  sympathy 
from  the  British  cause. 

Major  Andre,  who  took  a  prominent  part  in  its  or- 
ganization, wrote   a   long  description   of  it    to   a  friend 

*  Watson's  "Annals  of  Philadelphia." 
265 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

in  England,  and  his  letter  was  published  in  the  "London 
Annual  Register,"  in  1778.  It  is  too  long  to  quote  in 
extenso,  but  I  shall  append  some  of  the  salient  passages 
of  this,  his  description  of  the  "  Mischianza, "  or  Italian 
medley,  as  it  was  called. 

"A  grand  regatta  [on  the  Delaware]  began  the  enter- 
tainment. It  consisted  of  three  divisions.  In  the  first 
was  the  Ferret  galley,  with  Sir  William  and  Lord  Howe, 
Sir  Henry  Clinton,*  the  officers  of  their  suites  and  some 
ladies.  The  Cornwallis  galley  brought  up  the  rear,  having 
on  board  General  Knyphausen  and  his  suite,  three  British 
generals  and  a  party  of  ladies.  On  each  quarter  of  these 
galleys,  and  forming  their  division,  were  five  flat  boats, 
lined  with  green  cloth,  and  filled  with  ladies  and  gentle- 
men. In  front  of  the  whole  were  three  flat  boats  with  a 
band  of  music  in  each.  Six  barges  rowed  about  each 
flank,  to  keep  off  the  swarm  of  boats  that  crossed  the 
river  from  side  to  side.  The  galleys  were  dressed  out  in  a 
variety  of  colors  and  streamers.  In  the  stream  opposite 
the  center  of  the  city,  the  Fanny,  armed  ship,  magnifi- 
cently decorated,  was  placed  at  anchor,  and  at  some 
distance  ahead  lay  his  majesty's  ship  Roebuck,  with 
the  admiral's  flag  hoisted  at  the  fore-topmast  head.  The 
transport-ships,  extending  in  a  line  the  whole  length  of 
the  town,  appeared  with  colors  flying,  and  crowded  with 
spectators,  exhibiting  the  most  picturesque  and  enliven- 
ing scene  the  eye  could  desire." 

This  water  pageant  started  at  the  foot  of  Vine  Street, 
passing  southward,  "keeping  time  to  the  music  that  led 

*  Who  had  just  been  appointed  to  succeed  General  Howe  as  commander- 
in-chief. 

266 


PHILADELPHIA 

the  fleet,"  to  the  foot  of  Market  Street,  and  there  halted 
while  the  bands  played  "God  Save  the  King"  and  cheers 
were  given.  The  guests  then  landed  "  a  little  to  the  south- 
ward of  the  town,  fronting  a  building,"  the  old  Wharton 
Mansion  that  stood  well  back  from  the  river,  between 
which  and  it  stretched  a  stately  garden. 

"The  company  as  they  disembarked  arranged  them- 
selves in  line  of  procession  and  advanced  through  an 
avenue  formed  by  two  files  of  grenadiers,  and  a  line  of 
light  horse  supporting  each  file.  This  avenue  led  to  a 
square  lawn,  lined  with  troops  and  properly  prepared 
for  the  exhibition  of  a  tilt  and  tournament  according  to 
the  customs  and  ordinance  of  ancient  chivalry.  .  .  . 
Two  pavilions  received  the  ladies  while  the  gentlemen 
arranged  themselves  in  convenient  order  at  each  side. 

"On  the  front  seat  of  each  pavilion  were  placed  seven 
of  the  principal  young  ladies  of  the  country,  dressed  in 
Turkish  habits  and  wearing  in  their  turbans  the  favors 
of  the  knights  who  were  to  contend  in  their  honor." 

The  knights  then  entered  in  two  companies,  those  of 
the  Blended  Rose  and  those  of  the  Burning  Mountain. 
Among  the  former  was  Andre  himself,  appearing  in 
honor  of  Miss  Peggy  Chew,  and  with  him  was  Lieutenant 
Sloper,  who  appeared  in  honor  of  Miss  Margaret  Ship- 
pen,  who  afterward  married  Benedict  Arnold. 

After  the  tournament,  with  its  splintering  of  lances 
and  encounters  with  swords,  a  passage  was  opened  and 
the  company  proceeded  toward  the  house  through  two 
triumphal  arches,  erected  in  honor  of  the  two  brothers, 
the  general  and  the  admiral,  along  an  avenue  lined  with 

267 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

troops,  and  enlivened  with  "the  colors  of  all  the  army 
planted  at  proper  distances."  They  then  entered  the 
house,  where  refreshments  were  served,  the  "windows 
were  thrown  open  and  a  magnificent  bouquet  of  rockets 
began  the  fireworks."  These  included  wonderful  de- 
vices, designed  by  Captain  Montressor,  chief  engineer. 
The  arches  were  illuminated,  and  Fame  appeared  on  top 
of  one  of  them  and  blew  from  her  trumpet  the  inscrip- 
tion, "Leurs  Lauriers  sont  Immortels." 

"At  twelve  supper  was  announced,  and  large  folding 
doors,  hitherto  artfully  concealed,  being  suddenly  thrown 
open,  disclosed  a  magnificent  saloon  of  two  hundred  and 
ten  feet  by  forty,  and  twenty  two  feet  in  height,  with 
three  alcoves  on  each  side,  which  served  for  sideboards. 
.  .  .  Fifty  six  large  pier-glasses,  ornamented  with  green 
silk  artificial  flowers  and  ribbons;  a  hundred  branches 
with  three  lights  in  each;  eighteen  lustres,  each  with 
twenty  four  lights,  suspended  from  the  ceiling;  three 
hundred  wax  tapers  disposed  along  the  supper  tables; 
430  covers;  1,200  dishes,  twenty  four  black  slaves  in 
Oriental  dresses,  with  silver  collars  and  bracelets,  arranged 
in  two  lines,  and  bending  to  the  ground  as  the  general 
and  admiral  approached  the  saloon;  all  these,  forming  to- 
gether the  most  brilliant  assemblage  of  gay  objects,  and 
appearing  at  once  as  we  entered  by  an  easy  descent,  ex- 
hibited a  coup  d'ceil  beyond  description  magnificent.  .  .  . 
After  supper  we  returned  to  the  ball-room  and  continued 
to  dance  till  four  o'clock. 

"Such,  my  friend,  is  a  description,  though  a  faint  one, 
of  the  most  splendid  entertainment,  I  believe,  ever  given 
by  an  army  to  their  general.  ..." 

268 


PHILADELPHIA 

Truly,  a  fete  to  be  remembered  and  talked  about,  es- 
pecially in  those  simple  colonial  times!  But  the  "Mis- 
chianza"  was  the  Belshazzar's  feast  of  the  British.  Soon 
after  it  General  Howe  boarded  his  brother's  flagship,  the 
Eagle,  and  later  sailed  for  England. 

It  then  became  known  that  the  home  government 
had  resolved  upon  the  evacuation  of  Philadelphia  as  a 
military  necessity,  for  reinforcements  sufficiently  large 
to  hold  it  could  not  be  sent.  The  Tories  of  the  city  were 
dismayed  at  the  news  and,  not  daring  to  face  their  irate 
patriot  neighbors  after  their  winter  revels  with  the 
British  officers,  packed  up  their  belongings  and  prepared 
to  flee  with  the  army  and  go  as  exiles  to  New  York. 

At  three  in  the  morning  of  the  18th  of  June,  a  warm 
summer  night,  Sir  Henry  Clinton  began  to  move  his 
army  across  the  Delaware,  and  by  ten  in  the  morning 
his  entire  force  of  seventeen  thousand  men  was  safely 
over  on  the  New  Jersey  shore.  He  marched  by  way  of 
Mount  Holly  and  Crosswicks  to  Allentown,  where,  fear- 
ing danger  in  crossing  the  Raritan  River,  he  decided  to 
proceed  by  way  of  Monmouth  to  Sandy  Hook  and  thence 
to  New  York. 

Washington  had  been  watching  him  and,  despite  ad- 
verse criticism  among  his  generals,  started  in  pursuit, 
crossing  the  Delaware  above  Trenton  and  marching  via 
Princeton  to  Englishtown,  where  he  overtook  him  and 
gave  battle  at  Monmouth,  an  inconclusive  action  whose 
episodes  we  shall  not  follow  here. 


269 


CAMPAIGNS   IN   THE   CAROLINAS 


CAMPAIGNS   IN   THE    CAROLINAS 


CHARLESTON 

INSTEAD  of  remaining  inactive  in  New  York  during 
the  winter  of  1779-80  the  new  British  commander-in- 
chief,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  decided  to  sail  for  the 
South,  for,  says  Colonel  Tarleton,  who  accompanied  him, 
"the  richness  of  the  country,  its  vicinity  to  Georgia  (a 
loyalist  state)  and  its  distance  from  General  Washington, 
pointed  out  the  advantages  and  facility  of  its  conquest." 
So  transportation  was  provided  for  eighty-five  hundred 
men,  and  these  were  convoyed  by  a  proud  fleet  under 
Admiral  Arbuthnot.  New  York  harbor  was  safely  cleared 
on  the  day  after  Christmas,  and  for  a  while,  despite  the 
season  of  the  year,  favorable  weather  was  encountered. 
But  then  a  series  of  storms  set  in,  and  the  ships  were 
separated  and  buffeted  at  sea  during  the  entire  month 
of  January.  While  they  are  beating  about  in  the  At- 
lantic let  us  hasten  ahead  of  them  and  look  at  the  city 
for  which  they  were  bound. 

Charleston,  to  my  mind,  retains  more  of  the  atmos- 
phere of  Revolutionary  days  than  any  other  of  our  larger 
cities.  Its  old-fashioned  main  street;  its  narrow  thor- 
oughfares   neatly    paved    with    brick;     its    homesteads, 

273 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

shut  behind  high  walls,  many  of  them  still  occupied  by 
descendants  of  the  old  colonial  families,  give  it  an  air 
of  distinction — an  aspect  quite  different  from  that  of  the 
bustling  cities  of  the  North;  while  its  fragrant  Old  World 
gardens,  overgrown  with  honeysuckle  and  jasmine  and 
rippling  with  the  notes  of  the  mocking-bird  and  the 
purple  grackle,  lend  to  it  a  particular  charm  rare  indeed 
in  the  newer  American  communities. 

Along  the  Battery  and  in  the  neighboring  streets- 
King,  Broad,  and  Tradd — many  of  the  old  houses  are 
still  furnished  as  they  were  a  century  ago.  Upon  a  re- 
cent visit  I  went  to  one  of  them — the  Pringle  House,  per- 
haps the  most  perfect  of  them  all — to  see  the  present- 
day  descendant  of  the  family  that  has  always  occupied 
it — -an  elderly  lady  of  quite  another  age,  fitting  perfectly 
into  her  surroundings,  enhancing  by  her  presence  the 
dignified  old  rooms  panelled  in  wood,  the  handsome 
English  furniture  and  the  family  portraits  that  look 
down  from  the  walls,  beginning  with  Miles  Bruton, 
builder  of  the  house,  and  his  daughter,  the  heroic  Rebecca 
Motte,  and  progressing  through  a  succession  of  jurists 
and  statesmen  and  ladies  in  panniers  to  men  in  the  black 
neckcloths  and  broadcloth  coats  of  our  grandfathers. 

In  one  of  the  rooms  a  friend,  who  was  taking  me  about, 
and  who  had  occupied  this  particular  apartment  for 
twenty-one  years,  led  me  over  to  the  chimneypiece  and, 
pointing  to  a  slab  of  black  marble  fitted  in  under  the 
mantel-shelf,  asked  what  I  saw  there.  At  first  I  could 
detect  nothing  at  all,  but  on  getting  in  a  certain  light  I 

274 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 


could  discern,  quite  plainly,  a  full-rigged  frigate  under 
sail,  scratched  with  a  diamond,  like  a  sgraffltto,  upon  the 
polished  surface.  Again  my  companion  asked:  "And 
what  more  can  you  see?"  Then  I  made  out  the  profile 
of  a  British  officer  in  powdered  wig  and  regimentals,  and 


•i>'f- 


fmiH.  »£. 


m  r    h 


The  Pringle  House,  Charleston 


my  friend  explained:  "We  call  him  Sir  Henry  Clinton; 
you  know  this  house  was  headquarters  during  the  British 
occupation." 

With  this  rare  companion  and  several  others  I  explored 
the  nooks  and  corners  of  the  old  city  (and  that  is  a  long 
story),  and  at  the  Southern  Club  listened  to  its  history 
told  by  the  men  who  know  it  best. 

One  afternoon  we  motored  out  to  St.  James  Goosecreek 
to  see  the  old  church  and  the  Middleton  estates  near  by. 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 


St.  James'  was  built  in  1713.  It  still  stands  quite  alone 
in  the  pine-woods,  in  a  most  romantic  spot,  with  ancient 
slate  gravestones  set  about  it  and  trees,  pendent  with 
moss,  shading  its  old  brick  walls.  Inside,  too,  the 
church  has  never  changed.  The  white  pilasters,  the 
balcony  with  the  hatchments  of  the  Izards,  the  wall 
tombs  that  date  back  to  the  building  of  the  church,  the 
pews  with  their  high  wainscots — all  are  as  they  ever  have 
been,  even  to  the  great  carved  lion  and  unicorn  that 
still  hold  the  royal  arms  of  England  over  the  high  altar. 
The  sight  of  this  coat  of  arms,  so  surprising  to  find, 
recalled  to  my  mind  one  of  Garden's  anecdotes,  an  inci- 
dent that  happened  during  the  early  days  of  the  Revo- 
lution in  this  very  church.  The  min- 
ister, ~ 

"the  Reverend  Mr.  Ellington,  in  the 
course   of   service,    praying,    'That  it 
may  please  thee  to  bless  and  preserve 
his  most  gracious  Majesty,  our  Sover- 
eign Lord  King  George,'  a  dead  silence 
ensued  and,   instead  of  the 
:        usual  response,  'We  beseech 
thee  to  hear  us,  good  Lord' 
a  murmuring  voice  pro- 
nounced,   'Good    Lord,    de- 
liver us.'" 

In    the    very    heart    of 
Charleston,    where   Broad 
Street  intersects   Meeting, 
276 


CAMPAIGNS  IN  THE  CAROLINAS 

stands  St.  Michael's,  perhaps  the  most  successful  and  im- 
posing colonial  church  in  our  country.  Its  chimes,  that 
have  pealed  over  the  city  and  regulated  its  life  for  a  cen- 


Statuc  of  William  Pitt,  Charleston 


tury  and  a  half;  its  old  pews  inscrihed  with  the  same 
names  they  have  borne  for  many  generations;  its  organ, 
now  played,  I  am  told,  by  a  descendant  of  its  maker — 
John  Snetzler  fecit,  Londini,  1767,  as  he  signs  himself 
upon  it;  the  brass  chandelier  with  its  forty-odd  lights, 
are  all  there  to  attest  its  antiquity  as  well  as  the  good 

277 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

taste  of  its  builders,  while  its  spire  is  still,  as  it  ever  has 
been, 

"The  guardian  beacon  of  our  coast 

The  seaman's  hope  when  waves  are  wild." 

Almost  within  its  shadow,  in  a  green  square  across  the 
way,  stands  a  curious  relic  of  the  past — a  marble  statue 
of  the  elder  Pitt  draped  as  a  Roman  and  armless  as  the 
Venus  of  Milo.     Its  pedestal  bears  this  inscription: 

In  grateful  memory 

of  his  services  to  his  country  in  general 

and  to  America  in  particular 

The  Commons  House  of  Assembly 

of  South  Carolina 

unanimously  voted 

this  statue 

of 

The  Right  Honorable  William  Pitt,  Esqr 

who 

gloriously  exerted  himself 

in  defending  the  freedom  of  Americans 

the  true  sons  of  England 

by  promoting  a  repeal 

of  the  Stamp  Act 

in  the  year  1766. 

Time  shall  sooner  destroy  this  mark  of  their  esteem 

Than  erase  from  their  minds  their  just  sense  of  his  patriotic 

virtues. 

This  statue  originally  stood  at  the  intersection  of  the 
two  main  streets— Rroad  and  Meeting.     Its  right  arm 

278 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

was  carried  off  by  a  cannon-ball  during  the  siege  of  1780; 
later  it  was  pulled  down  and  consigned  to  oblivion  (Time 
having  destroyed  their  just  sense  of  his  virtues) ;  then  it 
was  resurrected  and  placed  before  the  Orphanage,  and 
finally,  in  1881,  it  was  moved  back  again  near  its  original 
situation.  It  remains  one  of  the  few  statues  dating  from 
colonial  times  that  I  know  of  in  our  country. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution,  the  Charles tonians 
quickly  sided  with  the  patriot  cause.  On  the  day  follow- 
ing the  skirmish  at  Lexington,  some  of  the  citizens  seized 
all  the  powder  in  the  city.  In  September,  1775,  Colonel 
William  Moultrie  drove  the  garrison  from  Sullivan's 
Island  and  took  possession  of  the  fort  at  the  mouth  of 
the  harbor.  The  British  governor,  Lord  William  Camp- 
bell, fled  from  his  mansion,  still  standing  down  in  Meet- 
ing Street,  and  went  on  board  of  one  of  the  King's  ships 
that  lay  in  the  harbor. 

In  March,  1776,  intelligence  reached  the  city  that  a 
British  fleet,  under  Sir  Peter  Parker,  was  under  way  to 
attack  it.  Colonel  Moultrie,  in  all  haste,  started  to. build 
a  new  fort  on  Sullivan's  Island,  and  this  was  but  half 
finished  when  Parker's  ships  dropped  anchor  to  the  north 
of  Charleston  bar.  Divided  counsels  among  the  British 
commanders,  coupled  with  adverse  weather  conditions, 
prevented  an  attack  until  somewhat  later. 

This  gave  the  patriots  an  opportunity  to  work,  which 
they  embraced  with  feverish  activity.  The  city's  defenses 
were  strengthened,  while  Moultrie  energetically  pushed 
work  on  his  fort,  at  that  time  called  Fort  Sullivan,  but 

279 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

ever  since  known,  from  its  gallant  defender,  as  Fort 
Moultrie.  It  was  a  square  with  bastions  at  each  corner, 
made  of  palmetto  logs  strongly  reinforced  with  sand. 

Refore  we  watch  the  battle  that  ensued,  one  of  the 
most  spectacular  of  the  war,  let  us  take  a  look  at  the 
topography  of  Charleston  Harbor.     To  the  right  of  the 


Charleston  Harbor 


entrance  is  a  sandy  island  grown  over  with  thickets  and 
clumps  of  palmettos;  this  has  always  been  known  as 
Sullivan's  Island.  Reyond  it,  to  the  north,  lies  a  larger 
island,  then  called  Long  Island  but  now  known  as  the 
Isle  of  Palms.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  entrance  is  a 
large  tract  of  land  called  James  Island.  Retween  it  and 
Sullivan's,  quite  in  the  entrance  itself,  lies  an  islet  whereon 
stands  Fort  Sumter  (also  fraught  with  memories,  but  of 

280 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

another  period),  which  forms  the  only  visible  part  of  a 
long  shoal  known  as  the  Middle  Shoal.  Between  this 
shoal  and  Fort  Moultrie  is  the  only  channel  deep  enough 
to  admit  large  ships,  so  that  this  fortress  is  really  the  key 
to  the  harbor. 

Now  let  us  take  the  ferry  to  Mount  Pleasant.  If  we 
do  this  in  the  cool  of  a  summer  morning  we  shall  find 
children  in  throngs,  with  their  mothers  and  nurse- 
maids, going  for  a  day's  outing  on  the  beach  at  the  Isle 
of  Palms.  As  we  follow  the  channel  round  the  end  of 
Shute's  Folly,  we  enjoy  a  series  of  fine  retrospects  of  the 
old  city  strung  along  its  wharfs,  its  slender  church 
spires — St.  Michael's,  St.  Phillip's,  and  others — still  main- 
taining their  ascendency  over  the  temples  of  Mammon 
that  now  overtop  and  dwarf  the  steeples  of  most  of  our 
American  cities.  There,  too,  stands  the  old  Exchange 
or  Custom  House  (where  the  Provincial  Congress  met  in 
1774,  "setting  up  the  first  independent  government  in 
America,"  as  its  tablet  records),  covered  with  pink  stucco, 
its  colonnade  facing  the  water-front  and  overlooking  the 
bay,  just  as  Leitch  depicts  it  in  his  engraving  of  the  city 
made  in  1780. 

From  Mount  Pleasant  the  Isle  of  Palms  trolley  took 
me  through  the  village  and  along  the  shore  to  a  long 
viaduct  built  across  the  channel  that  separates  Sullivan's 
Island  from  the  mainland  at  the  very  point  where  Gen- 
eral Lee  ordered  Moultrie  to  build  a  bridge  by  which  he 
might  retreat  in  case  of  a  disaster.  This  order  Moultrie 
ignored,  for,  says  he  in  his  "Memoirs":    "I  never  was 

281 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

uneasy  on  not  having  a  retreat,  because  I  never  imagined 
the  enemy  could  force  me  to  that  necessity." 

I  now  found  myself  upon  the  island,  long,  low,  and 
sandy,  and  to-day  sparsely  built  over  with  summer 
resorts  and  homes,  set  in  Southern-looking  gardens.  But 
the  principal  buildings  are  still  the  barracks  and  quarters 
that  cluster  round  Fort  Moultrie.  Brick  bastions  now 
replace  those  of  palmetto  logs,  but  the  emplacement  is 
the  same.  New  batteries  with  up-to-date  guns  have  been 
built  along  the  shore  beyond,  but  the  sentries  still  watch 
the  sea  as  Moultrie  did  on  that  cloudless  June  morning 
of  76. 

His  observant  eye,  on  the  28th,  assured  him  that  the 
expected  attack  was  coming,  and  he  quickly  made  his 
preparations.     Says  he  in  his  "Memoirs": 


Fort  Moultrie 


CAxMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

"  I  hurried  back  to  the  fort  as  soon  as  possible.  When 
I  got  there  I  found  that  the  ships  were  already  under 
sail.  I  immediately  ordered  the  long  roll  to  beat  and 
officers  and  men  to  their  posts,  when  the  ships  came  sail- 
ing up,  as  if  in  confidence  of  victory.  We  had  scarcely 
manned  our  guns.  They  were  soon  abreast  of  the  fort,  let 
go  their  anchors  and  began  their  attack  most  furiously." 

This  was  near  eleven  o'clock.  First  came  the  Solebay 
of  twenty-eight  guns,  then  the  big  Experiment  of  fifty; 
next  the  Bristol,  the  flag-ship,  with  the  commodore,  Sir 
Peter  Parker,  and  the  royal  governor  of  South  Carolina, 
Lord  William  Campbell,  on  board;  and  last  the  Active 
of  twenty-eight  guns.  Following  this  first  division  of 
larger  ships,  came  a  second  squadron  of  frigates:  the 
Sphinx,  Actaeon,  and  Syren,  which  were  ordered  to  pass 
around  the  big  ships  and  enfilade  the  fort.  Then  a 
mortar-ship,  the  Thunder  Bomb,  took  up  her  position  off 
the  east  bastion  and  prepared  to  throw  her  shells. 

To  oppose  this  formidable  array  Moultrie  disposed  of 
but  four  hundred  and  thirty-five  men,  officers  included. 
He  had  made  a  flag— there  being  no  official  emblem  of 
the  colony — with  a  field  of  blue  and  a  crescent  in  the 
upper  dexter  corner,  and  this  floated  proudly  on  the  flag- 
pole of  the  fort.  Word  was  passed  round:  "Mind  the 
fifty-gun  ships;  mind  the  commodore!" 

When  the  first  terrific  broadside  from  the  fleet  was 
hurled  into  the  fort,  the  shots  embedded  themselves  in 
the  tough  palmetto  logs  as  in  a  sponge,  or  struck  into  the 
shifting  sand,  inflicting  little  or  no  damage.  Broadside 
followed  broadside,  and  the  Thunder  Bomb 

283 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

"threw  her  shells  in  good  direction  and  most  of  them  fell 
within  the  fort,  but  we  had  a  morass  in  the  middle  that 
swallowed  them  up  instantly  and  those  that  fell  in  the 
sand,  in  and  about  the  fort  were  immediately  buried,  so 
that  very  few  bursted  among  us."  * 

These  broadsides  were  answered  by  a  slow  and  deliber- 
ate fire  from  the  fort,  each  shot  crashing  into  the  ships' 
timbers  with  telling  effect.  In  the  early  afternoon  the 
flag-ship  Bristol  swung  about  with  her  stern  squarely  to 
the  fort,  and  was  raked  from  stern  to  stem,  every  man  on 
her  quarter-deck  being  put  out  of  action — all  except  the 
"Commodore  who  stood  alone — a  spectacle  of  intrepidity 
and  firmness  which  has  seldom  been  equaled,  never  ex- 
ceeded." Forty  of  her  crew  were  killed,  seventy- two 
wounded;  her  hull  was  struck  seventy  times,  and  her 
rigging  cut  to  pieces. 

Inside  the  fort  equal  gallantry  was  displayed.  The 
men,  in  the  torrid  June  noonday,  fought  half  naked 
through  the  long  hours.  A  shot  carried  away  the  flag- 
pole, and  the  people  in  the  city,  watching  through  their 
spy-glasses,  thought  the  fort  had  surrendered. 

"Sergeant  Jasper  perceiving  that  the  flag  had  fallen 
without  the  fort,  jumped  through  one  of  the  embrasures 
and  brought  it  up  through  heavy  fire;  fixed  it  upon  a 
sponge  staff  and  planted  it  upon  the  ramparts  again,  "f 

*  Moultrie's  "Memoirs." 

f  In  White  Point  Gardens,  at  the  Battery  in  Charleston,  Jasper's  statue 
stands  upon  a  tall  pedestal,  his  flag  clutched  in  one  hand,  the  other  point- 
ing across  the  bay  to  the  scene  of  his  dashing  exploit.  On  the  back  of  the 
pedestal  are  his  words:   "Don't  let  us  fight  without  a  flag." 

284 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

Meanwhile  the  three  frigates  had  tried  to  make  their 
way  round  and  take  the  fort  upon  its  unfinished  flank. 
But  luckily  all  three  went  aground  on  the  Middle  Shoal, 
and  night  found  them  stuck  fast  there.  Next  morning, 
the  people  of  Charleston  strained  their  eyes  to  see  the 
result.  There  still  lay  the  three  ships,  but  at  high  tide 
two  got  off,  the  Sphinx  losing  her  bowsprit  as  she  fouled 
the  Syren.  But  the  Actaeon  stuck  fast,  and  her  crew,  set- 
ting fire  to  her,  abandoned  her  where  she  lay.  A  party 
of  Americans  boarded  her  then,  pointed  her  guns  toward 
the  retiring  fleet,  and  fired  a  few  farewell  shots  at  Sir 
Peter  Parker's  ships  as  they  sailed  out  of  the  harbor 
discomfited. 

How  vivid  the  scene  became  to  me  as  I  lay  upon  the 
sand  by  the  bastions  of  old  Fort  Moultrie !  There,  just 
before  me,  the  four  gallant  British  ships  lay,  with  cables 
sprung,  within  four  hundred  yards  of  the  fort.  Beyond 
them  a  long,  white  line  of  foam  marked  the  bar.  There, 
off  toward  Fort  Sumter,  on  the  Middle  Ground,  the  three 
frigates  went  ashore,  and  there  the  Actaeon  stuck  fast. 
Off  to  the  right  the  city  strung  its  houses,  filled  on  that 
occasion  with  beating  hearts  and  straining  eyes.  The 
morning  vapors  parted  and  a  stray  shaft  of  sunlight 
lighted  St.  Michael's  spire, 

"  The  seaman's  hope  when  waves  are  wild." 

So,  disastrously,  ended  the  first  British  attempt  to 
take  Charleston.  For  three  years  thereafter  the  city 
enjoyed  comparative  peace  and  quiet,  though  her  sons 

285 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

went  north  in  great  numbers  to  do  their  share  in  battling 
for  freedom.  Charleston  remained  the  principal  patriot 
rendezvous  in  the  South,  organizing  her  resources  and 
doing  her  best  to  aid  and  equip  the  Northern  armies  with 
arms  and  clothing. 

Then  General  Prevost,  the  British  commander  in 
Georgia,  determined  to  try  an  expedition  into  South 
Carolina.  He  appeared  before  Charleston  in  May,  1779. 
A  hasty  defense  had  been  organized  and  the  authorities 
temporized  long  enough  to  permit  the  return  of  General 
Lincoln  with  the  main  American  army  in  the  South. 
Prevost  was  forced  to  retire,  so  that  his  invasion  was 
little  more  than  an  unsuccessful  raid. 

Now,  as  we  have  seen,  at  the  beginning  of  1780  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  embarked  his  expedition  at  New  York 
and  set  out  to  subjugate  the  South,  his  fleet  finally 
gathering  in  Edisto  Inlet,  below  Charleston,  by  the  11th 
of  February. 

Charleston,  meanwhile,  had  been  preparing  to  receive 
him.  The  intrenchments  across  the  Neck  were  strength- 
ened; Fort  Moultrie,  the  works  at  Haddrell's  Point 
(Mount  Pleasant),  and  the  batteries  along  the  city  front 
were  put  in  order.  But  the  troops  to  man  them  were  so 
few  that  at  first  General  Lincoln,  the  American  com- 
mander, thought  of  evacuating  the  city  and  saving  his 
army.  But,  assured  of  reinforcements,  he  finally  decided 
to  defend  it  as  best  he  might. 

The  British  landed  on  John's  Island,  crossed  to  James 
Island,  and  marched  up  the  Ashley  River  to  the  west  of 

286 


CAMPAIGNS  IN  THE  CAROLINAS 

the  town  where  they  prepared  to  cross  to  the  Neck.* 
About  the  same  time,  Admiral  Arbuthnot  entered  the 
harbor  with  his  fleet,  succeeding  in  sailing  them  past 
Fort  Moultrie  with  comparatively  little  loss.  His  galleys 
now  ascended  the  Ashley,  and  under  the  protection  of 
their  guns  the  British  crossed  the  river.  The  few  Ameri- 
can vessels  in  the  harbor  retired  behind  the  boom  that 
stretched  across  the  mouth  of  the  Cooper  River  and 
there  were  sunk  to  prevent  the  British  from  ascending 
that  stream. 

But  the  city  was  now  almost  surrounded.  Across  the 
Neck,  to  the  north,  extended  the  British  lines.  The  fleet 
lay  out  in  the  harbor  within  cannon-shot  of  the  town.  And 
now  Cornwallis  arrived  with  three  thousand  fresh  troops, 
seized  Haddrell's  Point,  and  the  investment  was  complete. 

The  British  batteries  opened  fire  and  maintained  a 
continuous  cannonade  from  land  and  sea.  Day  after 
day  this  went  on.  The  situation  became  desperate. 
Clinton  demanded  a  surrender,  but  would  promise  no 
conditions.  On  the  8th  of  May  a  truce  was  asked  and 
granted,  but  Lincoln  refused  the  terms  offered.  So  that 
night,  after  a  forty  days'  siege,  the  British  batteries 
opened  anew  with  redoubled  fury.  Two  hundred  cannon 
poured  their  shot  into  the  city;  flames  leaped  from  burn- 
ing buildings;  the  third  parallel  was  completed,  and  there 
seemed  no  further  hope  of  successful  resistance.  That 
night,  says  gallant  Moultrie, 

"It  appeared  as  if  the  stars  were  tumbling  down. 
The  fire  was  incessant  almost  the  whole  night;    cannon 

*  See  map,  page  280. 

287 


REVOLUTIONARY   PILGRIMAGE 

balls  whizzing  and  shells  hissing  continually  among  us; 
ammunition  chests  and  temporary  magazines  blowing 
up;  great  guns  bursting  and  wounded  men  groaning 
along  the  lines;   it  was  a  dreadful  night." 

Human  nature  could  endure  no  more.  Lincoln  was 
forced  to  capitulate,  and  not  only  give  up  the  city  but 
surrender  his  entire  army  under  very  severe  terms. 


288 


II 

THROUGH   SOUTH   CAROLINA 

THE  fall  of  Charleston  seemed,  for  a  time,  to  put 
an  end  to  all  resistance  in  South  Carolina.  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  wrote  to  Lord  Germaine:  "There 
are  few  men  in  South  Carolina  who  are  not  either  our 
prisoners  or  in  arms  with  us."  Emboldened  by  this 
seeming  situation,  he  issued  a  drastic  proclamation  de- 
claring that  any  man  in  the  province  who  did  not  take 
up  arms  for  the  King  would  be  treated  as  a  rebel.  Thus, 
all  those  who  had  expected  to  remain  passive  and  neu- 
tral saw  themselves  suddenly  constrained  to  bear  arms 
against  the  cause  they  really  held  at  heart,  and  this  they 
could  not  make  up  their  minds  to  do. 

Clinton  returned  to  New  York,  intrusting  Lord  Corn- 
wallis  with  the  command  of  the  army  in  the  South,  with 
orders  to  overrun  both  Carolinas,  starting  at  Charleston 
and  gradually  working  northward,  leaving  all  the  coun- 
try in  his  rear  in  complete,  if  unwilling,  subjection  to 
the  King. 

But  partisan  bands  began  to  form  all  over  the  State, 
gathering  under  the  leadership  of  men  who  soon  became 
famous.  Sumter  assembled  recruits  between  the  Broad 
and  Catawba  Rivers  in  the  north;  Pickens  and  Clarke 
upon  the  Saluda  and  Savannah  in  the  south;  while 
Marion,  "the  fearless  and  faultless,"  in  the  swamps  of 

289 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

the  Pee  Dee  and  the  Santee,  and  even  at  the  very  gates 
of  Charleston  itself,  collected  his  matchless  horsemen — 
"Marion's  Men,"  as  they  were  called — whose  exploits 
form  the  theme  of  many  a  song  and  story. 

To  traverse  the  Carolinas  and  see  the  haunts  of  these 
men  was  the  object  of  my  next  pilgrimage;  and  as  I  did 
so  I  proposed  to  trail  Cornwallis  upon  his  long  march 
northward  toward  Virginia  and  the  Chesapeake. 

So  one  bright  Monday  morning  I  left  Charleston,  re- 
gretfully, and  took  train  for  the  "up-country."  Though 
the  sky  was  clear,  it  had  rained  during  the  night,  and  the 
observation  platform  of  the  "Carolina  Special"  proved  a 
very  agreeable  spot,  dustless  and,  as  the  train  is  not  a 
fast  one,  affording  an  excellent  opportunity  for  seeing  the 
country. 

As  far  as  Summer ville  (as  its  name  implies,  a  resort 
for  Charlestonians)  and  even  beyond,  to  Branchville, 
where  the  Atlanta  line  diverges,  there  is  nothing  of  par- 
ticular interest  to  see,  except,  perhaps,  some  typical 
Southern  scenes  about  the  depots:  a  big,  fat  mammy 
rounding  up  her  numerous  progeny;  a  "yaller  gal" 
driving  a  cow  hitched  to  a  buggy;  a  lusty  negro  leading 
his  faithful  mule  to  his  work  in  the  fields. 

Beyond  Branchville  we  turned  due  north  and  soon 
reached  Fort  Motte — a  place  that  holds  its  associations 
of  the  Revolution.  Here,  in  the  latter  days  of  the  war, 
dwelt  Rebecca  Motte  (whose  name  I  have  already  men- 
tioned) in  a  great  country  house  that  the  British  had 
seized  and  converted  into  a  fortress.     Lee  and  Marion 

290 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 


came  along  with  their  men  and  prepared  to  attack  this 
outpost,  but  its  garrison  resisted  so  bravely  that  there 
seemed  no  way  to  dislodge  them.  Then,  says  Garden  in 
his  "Anecdotes": 


iwo/rr/i    Carolina 

.•.;SAusB<JMr\  ',: 


j7X  Ol/NA 


{-* 


I 


Y~ 


Map  of  Campaigns  in  the  Carofinas,  Showing  ComwaUiss 
March  from  Charleston  to  Virginia 

"Lieutenant-Colonel  Lee  informed  Mrs.  Motte  that, 
in  order  to  accomplish  the  immediate  surrender  of  the 
British  garrison,  occupying  her  elegant  mansion,  its  de- 
struction was  indispensable.  She  instantly  replied:  'the 
sacrifice  of  my  property  is  nothing  and  I  shall  view  its 
destruction  with  delight,  if  it  shall  in  any  degree  con- 
tribute to  the  good  of  my  country.'"  * 

*  "  Anecdotes  of  the  American  Revolution,"  by  Alexander  Garden. 

291 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

So  she  placed  in  Marion's  hands  a  bow  with  some 
arrows  that,  with  lighted  ends,  were  soon  winging  their 
way  to  the  roof  of  the  house.  Its  dry  shingles  promptly 
took  fire  and,  with  roaring  flames  all  about  them,  the 
garrison  was  soon  forced  to  surrender. 

Just  beyond  Fort  Motte  I  first  perceived  the  Con- 
garee,  which,  joining  the  Wateree  down  below,  forms  the 
Santee — all  three  taking  their  names  from  the  Cherokee 
tribes  that  once  dwelt  along  them.  All  three  are  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  partisan  warfare  of  the  Revo- 
lution, their  cane-brakes  and  evergreen  forests — natural 
hiding-places  for  these  roving  bands,  whence  they  could 
issue  at  will  and  to  which  they  could  retire  with  perfect 
safety — having  been  the  favorite  haunts  of  Sumter,  the 
"Game  Cock,"  and  Marion,  the  "Swamp  Fox,"  as  the 
Rritish  called  them. 

What  perfect  retreats  they  were — these  Carolina 
swamps !  As  we  proceeded  we  traversed  miles  of  them, 
sometimes  crossing  long  wooden  trestles  shut  in  by  dense 
masses  of  rich  foliage — pines,  oaks,  maples,  from  which 
hung  festoons  and  garlands  of  vines  and  creepers,  while 
mighty  cypresses  towered  aloft  draped  with  swaying 
beards  and  wisps  of  moss.  At  other  times  we  passed 
ponds  whose  mirror-like  surfaces  were  starred  with  hun- 
dreds of  white  lilies.  Then  again,  through  the  dense 
foliage,  I  could  dimly  discern  sombre  depths,  where  pools 
of  tarnished,  brownish  water  could  be  faintly  seen,  stag- 
nant, bristling  with  "cypress-knees,"  dank  and  humid. 

Brilliant  scarlet  tanagers  and  modest  gray  mocking- 

292 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

birds  flitted  in  obscure  shadows,  in  which,  according  to 
an  old  writer,  "Fire-flies  carry  their  Lanthorns  in  their 
Tails  and  on  dark  nights  enlighten  them  with  their  golden 
spangles." 

Such  were  the  haunts  of  Marion's  Men;  such  were 
their  hiding-places. 

"Our  band  is  few,  but  true  and  tried, 

Our  leader  frank  and  bold; 
The  British  soldier  trembles 

When  Marion's  name  is  told. 
Our  fortress  is  the  good  green  wood, 

Our  tent  the  cypress  tree; 
We  know  the  forest  round  us, 

As  seamen  know  the  sea. 
We  know  its  walls  of  thorny  vines, 

Its  glades  of  reedy  grass; 
Its  safe  and  silent  islands 

Within  the  dark  morass. 

"Well  knows  the  fair  and  friendly  moon 

The  band  that  Marion  leads— 
The  glitter  of  their  rifles, 

The  scampering  of  their  steeds. 
'Tis  life  to  guide  the  fiery  barb 

Across  the  moonlight  plain; 
'Tis  life  to  feel  the  night  wind 

That  lifts  his  tossing  mane. 
A  moment  in  the  British  camp 

A  moment — and  away 
Back  to  the  pathless  forest, 

Before  the  peep  of  day."  * 

*  William  Cullen  Bryant,  "Song  of  Marion's  Men." 
293 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  one  of  these  dusky  swamps 
Garden  places  this  amusing  story  of  Colonel  Horry,  one 
of  Marion's  Men,  who,  with  a  detachment,  was  ordered 
to  await  the  approach  of  a  British  scouting-party  and 
entrap  them  in  an  ambuscade.  They  duly  fell  into  his 
hands,  when,  at  the  critical  moment, 

"from  a  dreadful  impediment  in  his  speech  by  which  he 
was  afflicted,  he  could  not  articulate  the  word  'fire.'  In 
vain  he  made  the  attempt — it  was  fi,  fi,  fi,  fi — but  he 
could  get  no  further.  At  length,  irritated  almost  to 
madness,  he  exclaimed  'Shoot,  damn  you, — shoot — you 
know  very  well  what  I  would  say — shoot,  shoot  and  be 
damn'd  to  you !" 

At  Kingsville,  if  you  have  a  day  or  two  to  spare,  you 
can  make  a  detour  and  by  taking  a  branch  line  go  OA^er 
to  Camden,  the  scene  of  one  of  the  disasters  of  the  war. 

When  Cornwallis  started  northward  from  Charleston, 
he  made  his  first  headquarters  at  Camden.  He  had  thus 
far  encountered  no  organized  resistance.  But  de  Kalb 
had  brought  troops  from  the  North  and  these,  joining 
reinforcements  that  were  on  their  way  to  the  relief  of 
Charleston  but  had  turned  back  upon  hearing  of  its  sur- 
render, now  constituted  quite  an  army. 

Unfortunately,  Congress  appointed  General  Gates, 
"the  conqueror  of  Burgoyne,"  to  the  command  of  this 
army  of  the  South.  He  joined  it  at  Hillsboro,  in  North 
Carolina,  and  despite  the  July  heat  marched  it  directly 
over  the  pine-barrens,  by  the  shortest  route,  to  Camden, 

294 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 


"sure  of  victory  and  of  the  dispersion  of  the  British 
army."  The  troops  arrived  sick  and  worn  out,  and  the 
result  was  to  be  foreseen. 

The  armies  came  together  in  the  early  morning,  mu- 
tually surprised,  and  at  the  first  shock  of  battle  the 
green  American  militia,  with  no  competent  leader,  "fled 
like  a  torrent,"  as  Gates  himself  declares — and  he  fled 
with  them.  Only  de  Kalb  and  his  Continentals  main- 
tained their  positions,  fighting  gallantly  until  de  Kalb 
himself  was  killed  and  his  troops,  opposed  by  vastly 
superior  numbers,  were  forced  to  give  in. 

Gates  himself  was  the  first  to  arrive  at  Charlotte,  sixty 
miles  in  the  rear.  He  was  presently  relieved  of  his  com- 
mand by  the  Congress  that  had  just  appointed  him  and 
summoned  before  a  court  of  inquiry.  Thus  ended  the 
military  career  of  this  incompetent  schemer,  who  at  one 
time  had  almost  succeeded  in  having  himself  placed  at 
the  head  of  the 
American  army. 

By  this  disaster  at 
Camden  the  Amer- 
ican army  of  the 
South  was  again  re- 
duced to  a  mere 
shadow.  The  de- 
feated militia  had 
returned  to  their 
homes;  the  Conti- 
nentals had  marched       Cornwalliss  Headquarters  at  Camden,  S.  C. 

295 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

north  again;  so  that  it  looked  as  if  Cornwallis  would 
now  proceed,  as  an  unopposed  conqueror,  through  both 
the  Carolinas. 

Fortunately,  at  this  critical  juncture  Congress  ap- 
pointed Nathanael  Greene,  a  resolute  and  efficient  com- 
mander, to  reorganize  the  Southern  army.  This,  in  spite 
of  disheartening  obstacles,  he  proceeded  to  do,  and  how 
skilfully  he  did  it  we  shall  see  at  Guilford  Court  House. 

Meanwhile  we  shall  resume  our  journey  via  Columbia, 
the  pretty  capital  of  South  Carolina,  to  Spartanburg,  a 
thriving  town  situated  in  the  cotton  belt  on  the  main 
line  of  the  Southern  Railway. 

This  city  affords  a  very  convenient  starting-point  from 
which  to  visit  two  of  the  most  important  battle-fields  of 
the  Carolinas,  King's  Mountain  and  the  Cowpens.  In 
search  of  information,  just  after  my  arrival,  I  hunted  up 
an  aged  veteran,  who  was  able  to  give  me  some  advice 
and  who  suggested  that  I  see  Mr.  John  Cleveland,  a  de- 
scendant of  the  Colonel  Cleveland  who  took  such  a 
prominent  part  in  the  battle  of  King's  Mountain.  With 
this  gentleman,  who  proved  most  kind  and  hospitable,  I 
passed  a  pleasant  and  instructive  evening. 

The  following  morning  I  boarded  an  early  train  going 
north,  soon  crossed  the  Pacolet — so  often  mentioned  in 
this  "up-country"  warfare — passed,  for  the  time  being, 
the  station  called  Cowpens,  and  then  traversed  a  fine 
upland  district  of  rolling  hills,  handsomely  wooded  and 
only  partially  cultivated.  Then,  after  crossing  the  Broad 
River,  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains  (well  named  upon  this 

296 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

bright,  fresh  morning)  came  into  view  along  the  north 
horizon,  while  to  the  south,  every  now  and  then,  my  eye 
caught  a  jagged  silhouette,  vaguely  suggesting  a  couchant 
lion,  long  and  low,  that  I  knew  from  descriptions  must 
be  King's  Mountain.  The  main  range  lies  in  North  Caro- 
lina, but  this  last  spur,  the  scene  of  the  battle,  lies  just 
a  mile  and  a  half  below  the  boundary — that  is,  in  South 
Carolina. 

After  the  battle  of  Camden,  as  I  have  said,  the  "Pal- 
metto State"  appeared  to  be  completely  in  Cornwallis's 
power.  Nevertheless  he  was  wary  and  wished  to  make 
his  victory  secure.  He  himself  set  out  for  Charlotte  to 
subjugate  North  Carolina,  but  he  despatched  Major 
Ferguson  with  a  body  of  regulars  and  the  King's  American 
Regiment — Tories  under  Captain  Abraham  de  Peyster, 
of  New  York — to  recruit  the  loyalists  and  break  up  the 
partisan  bands  that  were  making  forays  in  the  region, 
and  especially  to  disperse  the  Mountain  Men,  as  the 
frontiersmen  from  over  the  Blue  Ridge  were  called. 

Ferguson  was  a  coarse  and  cruel  officer  and  allowed 
his  troops  undue  license.  They  plundered  and  com- 
mitted outrages  wherever  they  went,  and  left  behind 
them  a  train  of  resentment  and  a  spirit  of  vengeance  of 
the  fiercest  description.  He  finally,  with  his  ranks 
swelled  by  loyalists  to  more  than  a  thousand  men,  took 
up  his  position  in  all  security,  as  he  thought,  upon  this 
dominating  spur  of  King's  Mountain. 

But  the  train  of  vengeance  he  had  kindled  behind  him 
began  to  bear  its  fruit.     From  all  directions  men  col- 

297 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

lected:  incensed  Virginians  under  Campbell;  Carolinians 
under  Cleveland,  Shelby,  and  Sevier — undisciplined  troops, 
to  be  sure,  but  hardy  and  brave;  regiments  without  a 
general;  men  without  a  commissary  to  feed  them  or  a 
surgeon  to  dress  their  wounds,  but  all  smarting  under  the 
wrongs  inflicted  upon  themselves  or  their  families  by 
Ferguson's  Tories  and  Tarleton's  hated  cavalry.  It  was 
a  veritable  man-hunt  that  they  organized. 
And,  as  an  old  local  doggerel  puts  it, 

"On  the  top  of  King's  Mountain  the  old  rogue  they 
found 
And  like  brave  heroes,  his  camp  did  surround." 

On  his  hilltop,  a  hundred  feet  above  his  assailants, 
Ferguson  felt  secure.  Rut  the  patriot  leaders  determined 
to  attack  him  from  every  side  at  once.  Colonel  Campbell 
with  the  Virginians  took  up  his  position  to  the  south; 
then,  in  the  order  named,  came  the  commands  of  Sevier, 
MacDowell,  Winston,  and  Cleveland,  extending  round  the 
mountain  to  the  east,  and  ending  with  Colonel  Shelby's 
men  to  the  north.  Campbell,  who  seems  to  have  as- 
sumed command,  gave  the  signal  at  the  right  moment 
by  yelling,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  in  true  Virginia  style: 
"Here  they  are,  boys.  Shoot  like  hell  and  fight  like 
devils." 

The  Indian  war-whoop  rang  out,  and  the  battle  was 
on.  Up  the  hill  the  Americans  clambered  from  all  sides, 
the  Rritish  charging  down  upon   them  with  fixed  bay- 

298 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

onets.  But,  hiding  behind  trees  and  rocks,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  every  bit  of  cover,  these  hardy  hunter-moun- 
taineers fired  with  deadly  aim.  As  they  continued  to 
ascend  and  the  coil  grew  tighter,  Ferguson  dashed  about, 
blowing  his  shrill  whistle  to  encourage  and  incite  his 
men.  Mounting  from  rock  to  rock  and  tree  to  tree,  the 
Americans  pressed  on,  and  all  the  while  the  British  ranks 
grew  thinner.  Finally,  the  patriots  pushed  their  way 
to  the  very  top  of  the  mountain  and  the  British  stood 
surrounded. 

Two  white  flags  went  up,  but  Ferguson  cut  them  down 
with  his  sword,  shouting:  "I'll  never  surrender  to  sucli 
banditti."  He  gallantly  tried  to  cut  his  way  out,  but, 
recognized  by  the  hunting-shirt  he  wore  over  his  uni- 
form, he  was  shot  and  fell  from  his  horse  unconscious. 
Then  ensued  a  terrible  scene,  for  the  Americans,  infuri- 
ated by  recent  outrages  and  by  the  memory  of  Tarleton's 
barbarity  at  Waxhaws,  still  shot  down  the  British  sol- 
diers who  held  aloft  white  tokens  of  surrender,  so  that 
it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  their  officers  could 
finally  restrain  them  and  prevent  a  literal  "no  quarter." 
The  battle  lasted  less  than  an  hour,  but  not  one  of  the 
enemy  escaped. 

In  its  effect  upon  the  people  the  battle  of  King's 
Mountain  was  as  electrifying  as  Bennington  or  Trenton. 
It  changed  the  entire  aspect  of  the  war  in  the  South. 
It  roused  and  stirred  the  patriots  of  both  the  Carolinas 
and  new  regiments  quickly  sprang  into  being.  As  Jeffer- 
son expressed  it,  it  "was  the  joyful  annunciation  of  that 

299 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

turn  of  the  tide  of  success  which  terminated  the  Revolu- 
tionary War  with  the  seal  of  independence." 

The  site  of  this  memorable  engagement  is  marked  with 
two  monuments — one  quite  old;  the  other  made  of 
blocks  of  granite  laid  in  tiers  and  bearing  this  inscription : 

In  memory  of 

The  Patriotic  Americans 

who  participated 

in  the  Battle  of 

King's  Mountain 

This  monument  is  erected 

by  their 

Grateful  Descendants. 

It  was  fought  on  the  7th  of  October,  1780.  News  of 
it  first  reached  Cornwallis  as  he  lay  at  Charlotte,  and  it 
was  the  first  sting  of  the  hornets.  Hitherto  he  had  pro- 
ceeded as  a  victor;  now  his  troubles  were  to  begin.  Such 
a  blow  was  it,  indeed,  that  he  fell  back  to  Winnsboro,  in 
South  Carolina;  while  Greene  advanced  to  Charlotte  and 
took  up  his  headquarters  in  the  town  Cornwallis  had  just 
deserted. 

From  these  headquarters  he  issued  an  order  appoint- 
ing Daniel  Morgan  to  the  command  of  a  special  corps  to 
operate  in  the  Catawba  region  and  along  the  border  be- 
tween the  two  Carolinas,  "to  protect  the  country,  spirit 
up  the  people  and  annoy  the  enemy." 

Thus,  the  beginning  of  1781  found  Cornwallis  at 
Winnsboro,    Greene   at   Charlotte,   and   Morgan  on  the 

300 


CAMPAIGNS  IN  THE  CAROLINAS 

Pacolet,  near  its  junction  with  the  Broad.  Cornwallis 
determined  first  to  strike  at  Morgan,  and  then  to  fall 
upon  Greene  himself.  So  he  detached  Colonel  Tarleton, 
with  his  famous  and  hated  cavalry  legion  and  a  portion 
of  the  Seventy-First  Regiment  supported  by  two  cannon, 
to  hunt  out  Morgan  and  crush  him. 

Tarleton  found  him  upon  the  Pacolet  and  crowded 
him  over  Thicketty  Mountain  to  a  place  known  as  the 
Cowpens,  a  locality  that  took  its  name  from  the  fact 
that  it  was  once  a  tract  of  grazing  land,  the  old  grants 
designating  it  as  "Hannah's  Cowpens." 

This  pursuit  took  them  through  the  very  country  that 
I  now  traversed  on  my  return  from  King's  Mountain  to 
Spartanburg.  First  I  crossed  the  Broad  River,  then  the 
station  of  Thicketty  recalled  the  position  of  Thicketty 
Mountain,  and  soon  after  I  arrived  at  Cowpens. 

The  battle-field  lies  several  miles  from  the  station,  and 
except  for  its  topography  presents  no  special  objects  of 
interest.  For  no  monuments  mark  it,  for  reasons  that  I 
shall  explain  presently,  yet  the  place  is  hallowed  by 
memories  of  one  of  the  gallant  actions  of  the  war.  The 
field  of  battle  is  rather  open  country,  sparsely  wooded, 
and  a  little  more  thickly  choked  with  shrubbery  than  in 
the  days  of  the  Revolution.  Then  it  was  clear  enough 
to  allow  the  evolutions  of  cavalry  and,  in  this  engagement ., 
cavalry  was  a  decisive  factor. 

Morgan  took  up  his  position  with  his  back  to  the  Broad 
River,  which  also  passed  around  his  left  flank,  so  that  in 
case  of  defeat  it  was  quite  impossible  to  retreat.     He 

301 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

thus  explains  this  strange  choice  of  terrain,  for  he  deliber- 
ately placed  himself  in  this  position. 

"As  to  covering  my  wings,  I  knew  my  adversary,  and 
was  perfectly  sure  I  should  have  nothing  but  downright 
fighting.  As  to  retreat,  it  was  the  very  thing  I  wished 
to  cut  off  all  hope  of.  I  would  have  thanked  Tarleton 
had  he  surrounded  me  with  his  cavalry.  .  .  .  When 
men  are  forced  to  fight,  they  will  sell  their  lives  dearly; 
and  I  knew  that  the  dread  of  Tarleton's  cavalry  would 
give  due  weight  to  the  protection  of  my  bayonets  and 
keep  my  troops  from  breaking." 

This  field  that  he  chose  was  quite  level,  with  but  two 
slight  elevations,  the  first  low,  the  second,  nearer  the 
river,  high  enough  to  screen  cavalry.  Behind  this  one, 
Morgan  placed  Colonel  William  Washington's  troopers. 
On  the  smaller  hillock  he  formed  his  best  troops  under 
Colonel  John  Eager  Howard,  and  in  front  of  them  he 
spread  two  separate  skirmish  lines  of  militia.  Having 
thus  disposed  his  command  at  dawn  on  the  7th  of  Jan- 
uary, 1781,  he  told  his  men  to  "ease  their  joints"  until 
the  enemy  came  in  sight. 

Tarleton  left  his  encampment  at  three  in  the  morning, 
hoping  to  surprise  Morgan,  but  upon  his  arrival  after  a 
long  march  he  found  the  little  American  army  prepared 
for  him  and  looking  calmly  on  while  he  formed  his  line 
of  battle  only  four  hundred  yards  away. 

After  a  preliminary  skirmish  Colonel  Tarleton  marched 
his  infantry  steadily  forward  in  serried  ranks  to  smash 
the  skirmish  lines  of  militia.     These  stood  their  ground 

302 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

well  and,  when  the  redcoats  had  advanced  to  within 
fifty  yards,  poured  a  deadly  fire  into  their  ranks,  and  then 
retreated  behind  the  main  line  of  Continentals  stationed 
upon  the  first  low  hill. 

The  British,  with  a  shout,  now  quickened  their  ad- 
vance, which,  however,  was  attended  with  some  con- 
fusion. Tarleton  lengthened  his  line,  and  Howard,  seeing 
this,  realized  the  danger  to  his  right  flank.  Washing- 
ton's cavalry  had  already  emerged  from  behind  the  hill 
and  were  swinging  ahead  to  engage  the  British  dragoons 
when  their  commander,  as  he  advanced,  could  see  the 
confusion  in  the  enemy's  ranks;  so  he  sent  a  hasty  mes- 
sage back  to  Morgan:  "They  are  coming  like  a  mob; 
give  them  a  fire  and  I'll  charge  them." 

At  Morgan's  command  the  Continentals,  who  had  be- 
gun to  falter  on  their  hilltop,  now  stiffened  their  line, 
and,  delivering  a  death-dealing  volley  into  the  shouting 
ranks  of  the  on-coining  enemy,  charged  back  at  them 
with  their  bayonets.  "The  effect  was  immediate  and 
conclusive."  The  British  ranks  broke;  the  men  fell 
upon  their  knees  and  gave  in.  "Exertions  to  make  them 
advance  were  useless.  .  .  .  Neither  threats  nor  promises 
could  avail."  * 

Colonel  Washington,  with  his  cavalry,  was  impetuously 
pursuing  Tarleton's  fleeing  legion,  when,  riding  far  ahead 
of  his  men,  he  suddenly  found  himself  confronted  by 
Tarleton  himself  with  two  of  his  officers.  A  fierce  hand- 
to-hand  encounter  ensued.    Washington  was  aided  in  par 

*  Tarleton,  "Campaigns  of  1780  and  1781." 
303 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

rying  the  rain  of  blows  only  by  a  youth  of  fourteen,  and 
his  sword,  striking  that  of  one  of  Tarleton's  officers, 
broke  off  short.  He  would,  in  all  probability,  have  lost 
his  life  had  not  Sergeant-Major  Perry  come  up  in  the 
nick  of  time  to  ward  off  the  next  blow. 

Washington  had  wounded  Tarleton  in  the  hand  and 
had  himself  received  a  pistol-bullet  in  the  knee.  This 
sharp  and  bitter  encounter  forms  the  background  for 
another  of  Garden's  anecdotes  anent  the  repartee  of 
American  ladies. 

"The  haughty  Tarleton,  vaunting  his  feats  of  gallantry 
to  the  disparagement  of  the  Officers  of  the  Continental 
Cavalry,  said  to  a  lady  at  Wilmington  'I  have  a  very 
earnest  desire  to  see  your  far-famed  hero,  Colonel  Wash- 
ington.' 'Your  wish,  Colonel,  might  have  been  fully 
gratified,'  she  promptly  replied,  'had  you  ventured  to 
look  behind  you  after  the  battle  of  the  Cowpens.' 

"It  was  in  this  battle  that  Washington  had  wounded 
Tarleton  in  the  hand,  which  gave  rise  to  a  still  more 
pointed  retort.  Conversing  with  Mrs.  Wiley  Jones, 
Colonel  Tarleton  observed — 'You  appear  to  think  very 
highly  of  Colonel  Washington,  and  yet  I  have  been  told 
that  he  is  so  ignorant  a  fellow,  that  he  can  hardly  write 
his  own  name.'  'It  may  be  the  case,'  she  readily  re- 
plied 'but  no  man  better  than  yourself,  Colonel,  can 
testify,  that  he  knows  how  to  make  his  mark.' ' 

After  this  victory  at  the  Cowpens  Morgan  sent  off  six 
hundred  prisoners  to  Virginia — a  very  heartening  success 
for  the  Americans.     Congress  awarded  him  a  gold  medal 

304 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 


and  a  silver  one  each  to  Colonel  Howard  and  Colonel 
Washington. 

The  last-named  officer's  widow  (whose  home  still  stands 
facing  the  Battery  in  Charleston)  presented  the  scarlet 
banner  that  his  squad- 
ron carried  that  day 
to  the  Washington 
Light  Infantry.  This 
military  organization 
of  Charleston,  named 
in  her  husband's 
honor,  still  has  this 
prized  flag  in  its  pos- 
session, and  conse- 
quently has  taken  a 
particular  interest  in 
the  battle  of  the 
Cowpens.  In  1856  it 
journeyed  all  the  way 
from  Charleston  to  the 
battle-field,  in  those 
days  a  hundred  miles 
from  any  railway. 

With  appropriate  exercises  a  shaft  was  erected,  topped 
by  a  gilded  eagle — the  first  monument,  I  believe,  to  mark 
any  Southern  Revolutionary  battle-ground.  But  van- 
dals and  relic-hunters  (a  curse  upon  them  !)  carried  away 
the  memorial,  bit  by  bit,  so  that  nothing  now  remains 
of  it.     When  a  new  monument  was  projected  it  was  thus 

305 


Monument  to  Daniel  Morgan,  Spartanburg 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

deemed  wiser  to  erect  it  in  the  town  of  Spartanburg  it- 
self, near  by. 

There  it  now  stands  in  the  principal  square,  a  sturdy 
shaft,  simply  inscribed  and  surmounted  by  a  fine  bronze 
figure,  modelled  by  J.  Q.  A.  Ward,  of  Daniel  Morgan, 
who  is  supposed  to  be  looking  off  toward  the  battle-field. 
In  a  letter  to  the  committee  the  sculptor  thus  describes 
the  peculiar  costume  that  he  has  portrayed: 

"The  coat  or  tunic  was  a  fringed  hunting-shirt  adopted 
from  the  Indian  costume  and  much  worn  by  the  fron- 
tiersmen of  that  time.  The  fringed  leggins  and  mocas- 
sins belonged  to  the  same  costume  which  was  used  by 
Morgan's  Riflemen. 

"The  cap,  a  peculiar  one  of  fur,  with  a  cluster  of  pine 
leaves  as  a  sort  of  pompon,  was  loaned  me  by  a  gentleman 
of  Charleston  through  the  kindness  of  the  Hon.  Wm.  A. 
Courtenay  (then  Mayor).  This  was  an  original  cap 
preserved  from  the  Revolutionary  War.  ...  Of  course 
the  manner  of  wearing  the  hair,  the  cravat  and  ruffled 
shirt-front  are  all  in  the  mode  of  the  time." 

The  morning  after  my  visit  to  the  scene  of  these  two 
victories  at  the  Cowpens  and  King's  Mountain  I  left 
Spartanburg  to  proceed  northward,  for  I  was  now  to 
follow  the  two  main  armies,  Cornwallis's  and  Greene's, 
that  were  manoeuvring  to  confront  each  other. 


306 


Ill 

GUILFORD    COURT   HOUSE 

IT  was  not  until  two  months  later,  however,  on  the 
15th  of  March,  1781,  that  these  hostile  armies 
finally  stood  face  to  face.  Greene  had  played  for 
time,  meanwhile,  and  had  received  important  reinforce- 
ments of  militia,  until  he  now  felt  strong  enough  to  con- 
front Cornwallis's  veterans.  So,  choosing  a  locality 
north  of  Salisbury,  he  drew  up  his  battle-lines  round 
Guilford  Court  House,  a  settlement  situated  at  a  cross- 
roads near  the  present  town  of  Greensboro,  in  North 
Carolina. 

The  main  line  of  the  Southern  Railway  approximately 
follows  the  line  the  Americans  took  on  their  march 
northward  after  the  battle  of  the  Cowpens.  How  many 
travellers,  riding  luxuriously  nowadays  over  this  line  on 
their  way  north  from  Asheville  and  other  resorts  of  the 
Blue  Ridge  country,  or  from  Miami  and  Palm  Beach  in 
the  winter,  realize  that  they  are  following  the  weary 
footsteps  of  the  patriots  who  marched  and  counter- 
marched over  this  same  territory  to  fight  the  bitter 
Carolina  battles? 

From  Spartanburg  I  now  trailed  them,  stopping  en 
route  at   Charlotte,  for,  though   now  a   busy,   modern- 

307 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

looking  town  set  in  a  pretty  pastoral  country,  Charlotte 
has  its  place  in  Revolutionary  annals. 

To  it,  you  remember,  Gates  retreated  after  the  defeat 
at  Camden,  and  in  it  Cornwallis  made  his  headquarters 
for  a  considerable  time  prior  to  King's  Mountain;  but 
he  found  its  patriotic  inhabitants  so  inimical,  so  irritating, 
that  he  dubbed  the  place  the  "Hornet's  Nest"  when  he 
left  it  for  Winnsboro.  That  the  people  liked  the  name, 
and  that  they  remember  it  still,  is  evidenced  by  the  fact 
that  the  local  baseball-team  calls  itself  the  Hornets. 

On  the  occasion  of  my  last  visit  the  town  was  all 
agog  with  excitement.  The  President  of  the  United 
States  was  to  arrive  within  a  few  days  to  deliver  an  ad- 
dress, then  particularly  pertinent,  upon  the  one  hundred 
and  forty-first  anniversary  of  the  signing  of  the  Meck- 
lenburg* Declaration  of  Independence,  which  document, 
prepared  by  a  convention  of  patriots  known  as  the  Meck- 
lenburg Committee,  declared  themselves  and  the  "Ameri- 
can Colonies"  free  and  independent  of  Great  Rritain  on 
the  31st  of  May,  1775,  or  more  than  a  year  before  the 
JefTersonian  Declaration.  In  front  of  the  court-house 
a  monument  commemorates  this  fact,  now  well  authen- 
ticated. 

Reyond  Charlotte  I  soon  reached  Salisbury,  and  then 
crossed  the  Yadkin  near  the  spot  where  Greene  crossed 
it  while  its  waters  were  rising,  Cornwallis  following  as 
soon  as  the  flood  had  sufficiently  subsided. 

Greensboro  lies  just  a  little  farther  north — a  thriving 

*The  county  in  which  Charlotte  is  situated. 
308 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

town  in  the  centre  of  a  tobacco  and  cotton  growing  dis- 
trict. There,  in  the  busy  main  street,  I  quickly  found  a 
motor  to  take  me  out  to  the  Guilford  battle-field,  a  few 
miles  distant,  the  scene  of  a  struggle  that  did  so  much 
to  determine  the  final  issue  of  the  Revolution. 

My  first  impression  of  this  historic  spot  was  one  of 
extreme  annoyance.  A  group  of  patriotic  citizens,  ani- 
mated by  the  very  best  intentions,  acquired  the  battle- 
ground some  years  ago.  They  have  since  decorated  it 
lavishly  with  granite  tents,  boulders,  pyramids  and  tri- 
umphal arches  until  it  now  resembles  a  suburban  cem- 
etery. The  patriotism  that  inspired  the  great  effort 
involved  is  not  questioned;  the  good  taste  is.  Bronze 
figures  of  Clio  and  statues  of  former  presidents  of  the 
Battle  Ground  Company — no  matter  how  public-spirited 
these  citizens  may  have  been — seem  sadly  out  of  place 
upon  this  historic  field.  I  wish  to  except  from  this  gen- 
eral criticism  the  great  equestrian  statue  of  Nathanael 
Greene  that  has  recently  been  unveiled.  Had  it  stood 
alone,  dominating  the  landscape,  the  impression  would 
have  been  noble  and  effective.  Upon  the  other  hand, 
the  markers  designating  the  positions  of  troops  are 
most  useful  to  the  visitor,  being,  to  my  mind,  the  best 
means  of  marking  the  Revolutionary  battle-fields. 

To  follow  the  various  phases  of  the  battle  of  Guilford 
Court  House,  you  should  first  take  your  place  beside  the 
sign-board  that  marks  the  position  of  Singleton's  artillery. 
His  guns  occupied  a  piece  of  rising  ground,  pointing  their 
noses  down  the  highroad  that  leads  from  Salisbury.     On 

309 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

either  side  of  his  two  cannon  stretched  the  first  skirmish - 
line  of  North  Carolina  militia,  with  "Light  Horse  Harry" 
Lee's  cavalry  on  one  flank  and  Colonel  William  Wash- 
ington's upon  the  other.  The  militia  were  protected  by 
a  ditch  and  fence  that  ran  along  where  a  row  of  maples 
now  stands. 

Up  the  road  before  you  came  Tarleton's  cavalry  in 
column,  leading  the  van  of  the  British  army.  When  in 
sight  of  the  Americans  they  halted,  and  the  steady  ranks 
of  the  regulars  began  to  deploy  and  take  position  at  each 
side  of  them  until  their  lines  were  as  long  as  those  of  the 
Americans.  Then,  says  Tarleton,  "a  sharp  conflict  en- 
sued between  the  advanced  parties  of  the  two  armies. 
In  the  onset,  the  fire  of  the  Americans  was  heavy  and 
the  charge  of  their  cavalry  was  spirited." 

But  the  weight  of  the  British  soon  forced  back  this 
first  skirmish-line  and  disclosed  a  second  line,  the  Vir- 
ginians, also  at  each  side  of  the  road,  three  hundred 
yards  behind,  stationed  where  the  railroad-track  crosses 
the  Salisbury  road  near  the  two  great  stone  arches. 
These  troops  stood  their  ground  well,  for  Morgan,  know- 
ing the  temper  of  these  raw  recruits,  had  suggested  to 
Greene  to  "put  the  militia  in  the  centre  with  some  picked 
troops  in  their  rear,  with  orders  to  shoot  down  the  first 
man  that  runs."  After  a  splendid  resistance  this  line 
also  gave  way  and  sought  cover  in  the  surrounding  woods. 

And  now  the  British  guards  and  grenadiers  advanced 
across  a  gully  against  the  American  main  line — the  Con- 
tinentals, posted  on  rising  ground  to  the  left  of  the  road, 

310 


CAMPAIGNS  IN  THE  CAROLINAS 

where  a  shaft  of  pinkish  stone  marks  their  position. 
Behind  them  ran  the  road  to  Reedy  Fork,  and  at  its 
junction  with  the  main  road  we  have  been  following  stood 
the  court-house  that  gave  its  name  to  the  battle,  its  em- 
placement still  plainly  visible  and  marked  with  a  tablet. 


l£gfr&. 


The  Battle-field  at  Guilford  Court  House 


Two  fierce  charges  by  the  regulars  were  gallantly  re- 
pulsed by  the  Continentals,  who  even  forced  the  red- 
coats back  again  across  the  ravine.  "At  this  period," 
says  Tarleton,  "the  event  of  the  action  was  doubtful 
and  victory  alternately  presided  over  either  army." 
But  the  British  were  able  to  bring  up  additional  forces 
into  this  main  action  and  could  be  no  longer  resisted. 
Greene,  perceiving  this,  ordered  a  retreat,  and  his  troops 

311 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

retired,  keeping  their  lines  intact.  "Earl  Cornwallis," 
says  Tarleton,  "did  not  think  it  advisable  for  the  Rritish 
cavalry  to  charge  the  enemy,  who  were  retreating  in 
good  order." 

The  British  had  fought  with  extraordinary  dash  and 
bravery,  but  had  met  such  determined  resistance  that  a 
full  third  of  their  number  were  killed  or  wounded  during 
the  two  hours  of  this  desperate  encounter.  Cornwallis 
held  the  field,  but,  as  with  Burgoyne  after  the  first  battle 
of  Saratoga,  "the  British  had  the  name,  the  Americans 
the  good  consequences  of  victory."  Fox  declared  in  the 
House  of  Commons:  "Another  such  victory  would  ruin 
the  British  army." 

Greene  fell  back  twelve  miles  and  expected  Cornwallis 
to  pursue  him.  But  Cornwallis,  realizing  his  precarious 
position,  with  his  weakened  army  far  from  the  sea  and 
reinforcements,  having  cared  for  his  wounded  as  best  he 
might,  crossed  Deep  River.  Greene  followed  him,  still 
expecting  another  battle.  But  Cornwallis  suddenly 
turned  about  again,  recrossed  the  river,  and  with  all 
despatch  set  out  by  the  main  road  via  Fayetteville  to 
Wilmington,  where,  near  Cape  Fear,  the  British  ships 
lay. 

Seeing  his  enemy  thus  turning  from  him,  Greene  turned 
about  also  and  started  south  upon  his  campaign  that  was 
to  win  back  the  Carolinas  to  the  patriot  cause,  thus  ful- 
filling the  lines  of  an  old  ditty  that  used  to  be  popular  at 
the  end  of  the  war  and  was  sung  to  the  tune  of  "Yankee 
Doodle": 

312 


CAMPAIGNS    IN    THE    CAROLINAS 

"Cornwallis  led  a  country  dance; 

The  like  was  never  seen,  sir; 
Much  retrograde  and  much  advance 

And  all  with  General  Greene,  sir. 
They  rambled  up  and  rambled  down, 

Joined  hands,  and  off  they  ran,  sir; 
Our  General  Greene  to  old  Charlestown, 

And  the  Earl  to  Wilmington,  sir." 

But  the  earl  did  not  even  venture  to  remain  long  in 
Wilmington,  for,  as  he  wrote  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton  in 
New  York: 

"  I  could  not  remain  at  Wilmington  lest  General  Greene 
should  succeed  against  Lord  Rawdon  (in  South  Caro- 
lina) and  by  returning  to  North  Carolina,  have  it  in  his 
power  to  cut  off  every  means  of  saving  my  small  corps, 
except  that  disgraceful  one  of  an  embarkation,  with  the 
loss  of  cavalry  and  every  horse  in  the  army." 

And  in  a  later  despatch  he  adds: 

"I  can  not  help  expressing  my  wishes  that  the  Chesa- 
peake may  become  the  seat  of  war,  even  (if  necessary) 
at  the  expense  of  abandoning  New  York.  Until  Vir- 
ginia is  in  a  measure  subdued,  our  hold  on  the  Carolinas 
must  be  difficult." 

So  for  Virginia  he  set  forth,  and  thither  we  shall  now 
follow  him  and  witness  the  last  dramatic  act  of  the  war. 


313 


THROUGH  VIRGINIA 


THROUGH   VIRGINIA 


WILLIAMSBURG 

WHEN  Cornwallis  entered  Virginia  he  took 
the  main  road  direct  to  Petersburg,  crossed 
the  James  River  at  Westover,  and  proceeded 
to  Richmond.  Meanwhile,  apprised  of  his  coming, 
Washington  despatched  Lafayette  with  about  twelve 
hundred  men  to  oppose  him  as  best  he  could.  Corn- 
wallis received  reinforcements,  and  Lafayette,  before  this 
strengthened  enemy,  was  obliged  to  retire  to  northern 
Virginia.  But  here  he  was  joined  by  some  troops  from 
Pennsylvania  and  thus  was  able  to  take  the  field  again. 

Cornwallis  then  turned  south,  staying  at  Elk  Hill  for 
a  time,  while  Tarleton  made  an  unsuccessful  raid  to 
the  west  in  an  attempt  to  capture  Jefferson  and  the 
Virginia  Assembly,  then  in  session  at  Charlottesville. 
Upon  Tarleton's  return  Cornwallis  set  out  for  Williams- 
burg, at  which  place  he  arrived  about  the  middle  of 
June,  1781. 

During  all  this  time  Lafayette  had  been  hanging  upon 
his  flanks,  harassing  his  every  movement;  and  this  young 
man  of  twenty-three  had  proved  himself  so  swift  and  ac- 
tive, yet  so  prudent  and  wary,  that  not  once  could  Corn- 
wallis catch  him  off  his  guard  or  take  him  at  a  disad- 

317 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

vantage.  His  army,  too,  increased  all  the  time,  for  his 
"youth  and  generosity,  courage  and  prudence  were  his 
spells  of  persuasion,"  and  the  young  Virginia  gentry 
flocked  to  his  banner. 

So  Lafayette's  dream  of  battling  for  the  freedom  of 
mankind  was  now  really  coming  true — a  dream  that  had 
obsessed  him  from  his  boyhood  and  become  tangible  when, 
at  a  banquet  at  Metz,  he  first  heard  of  the  shots  fired  at 
Lexington  and  Concord.  Thenceforward,  heart  and  soul, 
he  was  won  to  the  American  cause,  and  was  anxious  to 
stake  his  life,  his  fortune,  and  his  future  happiness  upon 
its  issue.  In  return  he  received  the  love  and  admiration 
of  the  American  people.  "  It  is  no  trifling  compliment  to 
say,  that,  next  to  the  Commander-in-Chief,  and  the  in- 
trepid Greene,  no  general  stood  higher  in  public  favor, 
or  more  constantly  commanded  the  admiration  of  the 
army  than  La  Fayette."* 

After  a  brief  stay  in  Williamsburg  Cornwallis  again 
crossed  the  James  River  and  proceeded  to  Portsmouth, 
while  Lafayette  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  old  Virginia 
capital. 

For,  until  two  years  previous,  Williamsburg  had  been 
the  capital  of  the  province.  In  1779,  however,  the  seat 
of  government  had  been  transferred  to  Richmond,  and 
this  was  a  serious  blow  to  the  proud  little  town — a  gen- 
tlemanly community  that  would  not  barter  and  trade — 
and  a  blow  from  which  it  has  never  wholly  recovered, 
for  Williamsburg  has  ever  since  remained  a  somnolent 

*  Garden's  "Anecdotes." 
318 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 

place,  without  commerce,  without  prosperity,  but  retain- 
ing for  these  very  reasons  the  glamour  of  respectability 
and  ancient  lineage,  its  old  houses  being  haunted  with 


"•:^.fi 


The  Home  of  the  President  of  William  and  Mary  College,  Williamsburg 

memories  of  some  of  the  nation's  most  distinguished 
personages. 

A  single  street  traverses  it  from  end  to  end — a  broad, 
level  thoroughfare,  still  unpaved  and  dusty,  and  just  a 
mile  in  length — Duke  of  Gloucester  Street,  as  it  is  called, 
named  for  the  heir  apparent  when  William  and  Mary  sat 
upon  the  throne  of  England. 

William  and  Mary  College,  named,  when  it  was  built, 
for  the  sovereigns,  the  second  oldest  institution  of  learn- 

319 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

ing  in  our  country,  stands  at  one  end  of  this  street,  while 
at  the  other  used  to  stand  the  State  Capitol,  until  it  was 
destroyed  by  fire  many  years  ago.  The  venerable  col- 
lege still  holds  its  sessions,  and  prepares  its  graduates 
for  life's  struggles,  as  it  has  done  for  two  hundred  and 
twenty  odd  years.  Among  its  presidents  and  chancellors 
have  been  such  men  as  Washington  and  Madison;  among 
its  students  it  has  enrolled  three  Presidents  of  the  United 
States,  as  well  as  a  great  number  of  eminent  jurists,  pa- 
triots, and  statesmen. 

Its  old  brick  buildings  recall  some  ancient  English  seat 
of  learning,  which  effect  is  heightened  by  the  noble  trees 
that  arch  their  branches  overhead  to  shade  the  quadrangle, 
whose  focal  point  is  a  marble  monument,  erected  just 
prior  to  the  Revolution,  to  the  memory  of 

The 

Right  Honourable 

Nor  bonne  Berkeley 

Baron  de  Botetourt 

His  Majesty's 

Late  Lieutenant  and 

Governor  General  of  the 

Colony  and  Dominion 

of  Virginia 

as  the  inscription  upon  it  records,  adding:  "America! 
Behold  your  friend!"  The  sight  of  this  figure,  richly 
robed  and  heavily  cloaked,  brought  to  my  mind  a  rare 
old  print  called  "The  Alternative  of  Williamsburg " — a 

320 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 

crude  engraving  depicting  a  group  of  men  writing  the 
"Resolves  of  Congress"  upon  a  barrel-head,  while  this 
very  statue  looks  down  upon  them. 

At   about  the  middle   of  Duke  of  Gloucester   Street 
opens  the  Court  Green,  an  extensive  common  named  for 


Bridon  Church  and  the  George  Wythe  House 

the  old  colonial  court-house  that  still  stands  upon  it. 
Near  by  rises  Rruton  Church,  one  of  the  most  ancient  in 
our  land,  pervaded  with  an  atmosphere  of  rare  distinction, 
for  the  tombs  in  its  churchyard  are  graven  with  illus- 
trious names,  while  its  pews  bear  the  name-plates  of  the 
great  sons  of  Virginia,  many  of  whom  have  been  among 
its  vestrymen — Custises,  Randolphs,  Tylers,  Wallers,  and 
Rlairs.     The  governor's  seat  is  still  in  place,  and  of  a 

321 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Sunday,  I  am  told,  the  students  of  William  and  Mary 
occupy  the  gallery. 

Adjoining  it  stands  the  old  George  Wythe  house, 
which  Washington  made  his  headquarters  while  in 
Williamsburg,  now  toned  by  wind  and  weather  to  a  faded 
pinkish  brown.  It  is  the  present  home  of  a  genial  gentle- 
man, who,  when  we  visited  the  old  Virginia  capital  some 
years  since,  was  living  upon  the  James  River,  a  few  miles 
away,  in  historic  Carter's  Grove,  one  of  those  handsome 
country  houses — the  pride  of  the  State — whose  lawns  and 
terraces  overlook  the  river. 

At  that  time  I  visited  "The  Grove,"  and  made  the 
accompanying  drawing  of  its  hall  and  staircase,  whose 
rail  still  bears  the  scars  said  to  have  been  made  by  the 
sabres  of  Tarleton's  cavalrymen.  Most  of  the  houses 
in  Williamsburg  have  their  stories.  During  that  earlier 
stay  we  visited  almost  all  of  them,  each  haunted  with 
memories,  and  some  with  well-authenticated  ghosts. 
Each  held  its  prized  possessions:  a  sketch  of  Washing- 
ton, made  at  a  dinner-party  by  Latrobe's  facile  pencil; 
a  portrait  of  Mary  Cary,  Washington's  reputed  first 
love;  a  set  of  historic  china  or  a  rare  musical  instru- 
ment. 

In  one  I  saw  this  letter  framed  upon  the  wall:  "Gen- 
eral Washington  presents  his  compliments  to  Colonel 
Tucker  and  requests  the  favor  of  his  company  at  dinner 
tomorrow,  3  p.  m."  Above  this  invitation  hung  a  por- 
trait, Gilbert  Stuart's  masterly  presentment  of  John 
Randolph  of  Roanoke,  an  ancestor  of  the  family,  then  a 

322 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 

young  man  of  thirty.  In  another,  scratched  upon  a 
window-pane,  these  cabalistic  words  were  pointed  out 
to  me:  "1796,  Nov.  23,  Ah,  fatal  day!"  What  stories 
lurk  behind  these  fragments  of  forgotten  history — vague, 
intangible,  yet  so  teeming  with  suggestion ! 


Hall  in  Carter  s  Grove 


Other  houses  have  a  more  definite  history.  Near  the 
site  of  the  old  Capitol  stands  the  home  of  Peyton  Ran- 
dolph, the  man  whom  we  have  seen  presiding  over  that 
momentous  assembly,  the  first  Continental  Congress,  and 
whose  head,  when  he  was  speaker  of  the  House  of  Rur- 
gesses  of  Virginia,  was  framed  in  that  strange  high-backed 
chair  that  I  saw  in  the  State  Capitol  at  Richmond.  Ras- 
sett  Hall  was  long  the  residence  of  the  Tylers;  while  in 
a  house  nearer  the  inn  lived  William  Wirt,  first  chan- 

323 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

cellor  of  Virginia.  Such  are  the  memories  that  cling 
about  the  old  town. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  Williamsburg  be- 
came a  perfect  hotbed  of  rebellion.  Its  royal  governor, 
Lord  Dunmore,  having  seized  the  powder  stored  in  the 
Powder  Horn— a  queer,  octagonal  structure  that  still 
faces  the  court-house — Patrick  Henry,  with  the  patriots 
at  his  back,  demanded  its  surrender;  the  community 
flew  to  arms  and  Dunmore  escaped  to  his  ships.  Early 
in  1776  the  Virginia  Convention  met  in  Williamsburg  and 
instructed  its  delegates  in  Congress  to  vote  for  inde- 
pendence, and  on  the  29th  of  June  the  State  formally  de- 
clared itself  free  and  independent,  and  elected  Patrick 
Henry  its  first  governor. 

Williamsburg  was  then  the  headquarters  of  the  Virginia 
militia,  and  in  the  orderly  book  of  its  commander,  Gen- 
eral Lewis,  I  came  upon  these  quaint  instructions  regard- 
ing tenue  and  dress  of  officers  and  men — regulations  that 
governed  the  Virginia  riflemen,  whose  exploits  we  have 
witnessed  on  many  a  field— the  men  whom  the  British 
dubbed  derisively  "shirtmen,"  because  of  the  hunting- 
shirts  described. 

"It  is  recommended  to  the  Colonels  to  make  their 
men  appear  as  uniform  as  possible  in  their  Dress,  that 
their  Hatts  shall  be  cut,  all  cocked  in  Fassion,  that  their 
Hair  be  likewise  cut  exactly  the  same  length.  When  the 
Regiment  are  under  Arms,  the  Officers  to  appear  in  their 
Hunting  shirts;  the  Officers  as  well  as  men  to  die  their 
shirts  in  an  uniform  manner.     These  attentials  may  ap- 

324 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 

pear  Trivial,  but  they  are  in  fact  of  considerable  impor- 
tance, as  they  tend  to  give  what  is  call'd  Esprit  de  Corps, 
without  which  Regiments  never  grow  to  Reputation. 

"R.O.  The  Captains  of  the  6th  Rattalion,  together 
with  the  other  Officers,  are  immediately  to  provide  them- 
selves with  hunting  shirts,  short  and  fringed;  the  men's 
shirts  to  be  short  and  plain,  the  Sergeants'  shirts  to  have 
small  white  cuffs  and  plain;  the  Drummers'  shirts  to  be 
with  dark  cuffs.  Roth  Officers  and  Soldiers  to  have  Hatts 
cut  around  and  Round  with  black;  the  Rrims  of  their 
Hatts  to  be  2  inches  deep  and  Cocked  on  one  side  with 
a  Rutton  &  Loop  &  Cockades,  which  is  to  be  worn  on 
the  left." 

Many  of  these  were  the  Culpepper  Men,  who  bore 
upon  their  banner  a  rattlesnake,  with  the  device:  "Don't 
tread  on  me,"  and  ugly  antagonists  they  were  for  any 
foe,  these  Virginia  riflemen. 

Such  was  the  town,  such  were  the  people  and  the  sol- 
diery to  whom  Lafayette  came  in  the  month  of  June, 
1781.  And  from  Williamsburg  he  continued  to  watch 
his  enemy. 

Cornwallis  remained  at  Portsmouth,  where  he  was 
always  assured  of  a  retreat  through  the  Carolinas,  until 
he  received  orders  from  Sir  Henry  Clinton  to  proceed  at 
once  across  Hampton  Roads  to  Yorktown  and  co-operate 
with  the  Rritish  fleet  when  it  should  arrive  from  New 
York.  So,  on  the  1st  of  August,  against  his  own  good 
judgment,  Cornwallis  began  to  transport  his  army  up 
the  York  River  to  Yorktown,  where  his  entire  forces 
were  concentrated  by  the  22d. 

325 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Lafayette's  spirits  now  rose  and  he  began  to  foresee 
the  happy  issue  that  terminated  this  Virginia  cam- 
paign, for  he  thus  wrote  to  Washington: 

"In  the  present  state  of  affairs,  my  dear  general,  I 
hope  you  will  come  yourself  to  Virginia.  Lord  Corn- 
wallis  must  be  attacked  with  pretty  great  apparatus; 
but,  when  the  French  fleet  takes  possession  of  the  [Chesa- 
peake] Ray  and  rivers,  and  we  form  a  land  force  superior 
to  his,  his  army  must  sooner  or  later  be  forced  to  sur- 
render. I  heartily  thank  you  for  having  ordered  me  to 
Virginia;  it  is  to  your  goodness  that  I  am  indebted  for 
the  most  beautiful  prospect  which  I  may  ever  behold." 

On  the  30th  of  August  his  spirits  rose  higher  still,  for 
a  great  French  fleet,  under  the  Comte  de  Grasse,  arrived 
in  Hampton  Roads.  Five  days  later  more  than  three 
thousand  troops  landed  from  this  fleet  and  joined  the 
Americans  at  Williamsburg. 

Now  came  Washington's  opportunity.  He  had  been 
feigning  an  attack  on  New  York,  taking  the  greatest 
pains  to  deceive  and  bewilder  his  enemy  so  as  to  cover 
his  real  purpose,  which  was  to  hasten  to  Virginia  at  the 
proper  moment  with  his  best  troops  and  aid  Lafayette 
in  the  capture  of  Cornwallis  at  Yorktown.  And  so  suc- 
cessfully did  he  mislead  Sir  Henry  Clinton  that,  even 
when  he  crossed  the  Hudson,  with  two  thousand  Amer- 
icans and  four  thousand  French  soldiers  supplied  by  De 
Rarras's  fleet  at  Newport,  the  Rritish  commander  still 
thought  his  real  objective  was  New  York. 

Then,  suddenly  and  expeditiously,  when  it  was  already 

326 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 

too  late  for  Clinton  to  act,  this  combined  army  set  out 
via  Trenton  and  Philadelphia  on  their  way  to  the  South. 
The  American  troops  marched  through  the  capital  on 
the  2d  of  September  and  were  given  a  tremendous  ova- 
tion, and  on  the  following  day  the  French  soldiers  passed 
through,  the  combined  forces  then  proceeding  rapidly  to 
the  Head  of  Elk,  where  they  embarked  for  Virginia  under 
convoy  of  the  French  fleet. 

Meanwhile,  with  his  officers,  Washington  had  ridden 
down  by  way  of  Mount  Vernon,  his  first  visit  to  his  home 
in  six  years.  There,  on  the  10th  of  September,  he  enter- 
tained the  French  commanders,  de  Rochambeau  and  de 
Chastellux,  and  on  the  14th  he  reached  Williamsburg,  in 
time  to  congratulate  his  dear  Lafayette  on  his  twenty- 
fourth  birthday. 

All  was  now  excitement  and  bustle  in  the  allied  camp. 
The  northern  army  was  arriving  and  the  French  officers 
were  vying  with  each  other  in  politenesses  and  harmony 
of  action.  What  a  brilliant  scene  there  must  have  been 
around  the  old  George  Wythe  house,  where  Washington 
was  quartered !  How  the  Palace  Green  before  it  and  the 
Court  Green  beyond  must  have  glittered  with  the  bril- 
liant uniforms  of  the  French  King's  soldiers !  How  the 
music  must  have  echoed  up  and  down  Duke  of  Gloucester 
Street  as  the  allied  forces  assembled,  arriving,  regiment 
by  regiment,  from  their  landing-place  on  the  James 
River !  Ry  the  25th  of  September  twelve  thousand  men 
were  quartered  in  and  about  the  town. 

Washington,  Rochambeau,  and  the  general  officers  now 

327 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

visited  the  French  admiral  on  board  his  flagship,  the 
Ville  de  Paris,  and  perfected  their  plans  for  the  siege. 
On  the  28th  the  entire  allied  army  marched  out  of  Wil- 
liamsburg and  went  to  take  up  its  position  close  about 
the  fortifications  that  the  Rritish  had  thrown  up  around 
York  town. 


328 


s 


II 

YORKTOWN 

0  to  Yorktown  let  us  now  proceed  by  way  of  the 
country  that  Josiah  Quincy  so  enthusiastically 
described  when  he  visited  it  in  1773: 


"Excellent  farms  and  large  cleared  tracts  of  land,  well 
fenced  and  tilled,  are  all  around  me.  Peach  trees  seem  to 
be  of  spontaneous  growth  in  these  Provinces  .  .  .  and, 
intermingled  with  many  small  pine  trees  of  exquisite 
verdure,  form  a  prospect  to  the  eye  most  delightful  and 
charming." 

To  me  it  seemed  equally  pleasing,  as  we  motored  one 
May  morning  not  long  ago,  with  the  white  hawthorn 
blooming  by  the  wayside,  the  birds  singing  in  the  pine 
woods,  and  the  negro  cabins  alive  with  pickaninnies  play- 
ing in  the  doorways,  over  clay  roads  and  sand  roads  until 
we  crossed  the  backbone  of  the  narrow  peninsula  and 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  York  River,  stretching  broad  and 
blue  to  Gloucester  Point  directly  opposite. 

At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  Yorktown  was,  as  it  is 
now,  a  village  built  upon  a  bluff,  occupying  the  highest 
ground  below  Richmond  on  either  the  York  or  James 
Rivers.  For  this  reason  it  had  strategic  value  and  Corn- 
wallis  had  been  improving  its  natural  advantages  by  in- 
trenching his  position  as  skilfully  as  possible.     On  his 

329 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

right  lay  a  creek  and  swamp,  while  his  front  was  pro- 
tected by  a  long  ravine  so  that  his  main  intrenchments 
faced  the  southeast,  where  he  had  also  placed  his  prin- 
cipal redoubts. 


A      >  s 


-A^w-^/—  < 


British  Intrenchment  at  Yorktown,  and 
Map  Showing  the  Position  of  the 
French  and  American  Troops 


The  allied  troops  formed  a 
great  semicircle  around  him, 
with  each  extremity  of  their 
line  resting  on  the  river. 
Roughly  speaking,  the  French 
troops  held  the  left  half  of 
the  line,  and  the  Americans  the  right,  the  massed  artil- 
lery being  placed  at  the  point  of  junction  just  in  front 
of  Washington's  headquarters. 

It  did  not  take  long  for  Cornwallis  to  discover  that, 

330 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 

despite  his  strong  intrenchments,  he  was  in  a  very 
critical  position.  On  the  11th  of  October  he  sent  the 
following  despatch  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton: 

"I  have  only  to  report  that  nothing  but  a  direct  move 
to  York  River,  which  includes  a  successful  naval  action, 
can  save  me.  The  enemy  made  their  first  parallel  on  the 
night  of  the  sixth,  at  a  distance  of  six  hundred  yards, 
and  have  perfected  it  and  constructed  places  of  arms 
and  batteries  with  great  regularity  and  caution.  On  the 
evening  of  the  ninth,  their  batteries  opened  and  have 
since  continued  firing  without  intermission,  with  about 
forty  cannon,  mostly  heavy,  and  sixteen  mortars,  from 
eight  to  sixteen  inches.  We  have  lost  seventy  men,  and 
many  of  our  works  are  considerably  damaged;  and  in 
such  works,  in  disadvantageous  ground,  against  so  power- 
ful an  attack,  one  can  not  hope  to  make  a  very  long  re- 
sistance." 

He  thus  reports  the  further  progress  of  the  siege: 

"October  12th,  7  p.m.  Last  night  the  enemy  made 
their  parallel  at  the  distance  of  three  hundred  yards. 
We  continue  to  lose  men  very  fast. 

"October  loth.  Last  evening  the  enemy  carried  my 
two  advanced  redoubts  by  storm  and  during  the  night 
have  included  them  in  their  second  parallel.  My  situa- 
tion has  become  very  critical.  We  dare  not  show  a  gun 
to  their  old  batteries  and  I  expect  that  their  newr  ones 
will  open  to-morrow  morning.   .   .   . 

"A  little  before  day  broke,  on  the  evening  of  the  16th, 
I  ordered  a  sortie  of  about  350  men  under  Lieut.-Col. 
Abercrombie  to  attack  two  batteries  which  appeared  to 
be  in  the  greatest  forwardness  and  to  spike  the  guns.  .  .  . 

331 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

This  action  proved  of  little  public  advantage,  for  the 
cannon  having  been  spiked  in  a  hurry,  were  soon  rendered 
fit  for  service  again." 

He  then  relates  in  some  detail  his  attempt  to  pass 
his  army  under  cover  of  the  night  across  the  river  to 
Gloucester  Point  and  thus  effect  a  retreat.  Rut  this 
plan  failed,  for,  just  as  a  greater  part  of  the  guards  had 
been  ferried  over, 

"the  weather,  from  being  moderate  and  calm,  changed  to 
a  most  violent  storm  of  wind  and  rain  and  drove  all  of  the 
boats,  some  of  which  had  troops  on  board,  down  the  river." 

Thus  his  last  hope  vanished. 

"Our  works  in  the  meanwhile  were  going  to  ruin.  We 
at  that  time  could  not  fire  a  single  gun,  only  one  eight 
inch,  and  a  little  more  than  one  hundred  cohorn  shells 
remained.  ...     I  therefore  proposed  to  capitulate."  * 

Washington  willingly  acquiesced  in  Cornwallis's  pro- 
posal, and  commissioners  were  appointed  to  draw  up 
terms  of  surrender — the  Vicomte  de  Noailles  and  Colonel 
Laurens  representing  the  allies;  Colonel  Dundas  and 
Major  Ross  the  Rritish.  They  promptly  met  that  same 
afternoon — the  17th  of  October — in  a  house  known  as 
the  Moore  House,  that  still  stands  down  by  the  York 
River,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  below  Yorktown — a  one- 
story  dwelling,  to  which  an  inappropriate  mansard  roof 
has  been  added. 

*  Cornwallis's  despatches  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton. 
332 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 

As  you  drive  to  it  you  pass  the  remains  of  the  "two 
advanced  redoubts"  mentioned  by  Cornwallis  in  his 
despatch  of  October  15 — the  little  forts  that  were  car- 
ried in  friendly  rivalry  by  details  from  the  allied 
armies.     The  redoubt  nearest  the  river  was  assigned  to 


The  Moore  House 


the  American  troops  under  Colonel  Alexander  Hamilton; 
the  other  to  French  troops  under  the  Baron  de  Viomenil. 
The  Americans  carried  their  redoubt  easily,  after  a 
brilliant  charge  that  did  not  meet  very  serious  opposition, 
but  the  French  faced  a  more  difficult  problem,  for  the 
work  they  were  to  carry  was  the  better  fortified  of  the 
two.  Its  abatis  and  the  palisades  of  its  glacis  held 
them  in  check  so  long  that  when  they  had  cleared  these 

335 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

obstructions  they  had  already  lost  many  men.  But,  un- 
daunted, they  threw  themselves  into  the  ditch,  scaled 
the  parapet,  and,  leaping  like  tigers  into  the  redoubt 
itself,  succeeded  in  carrying  it  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 
Washington  cited  both  columns  for  bravery  in  general 
orders,  and  the  French  King  restored  to  his  regiment, 
known  as  le  Gatinois,  its  old  and  honored  name,  "Royale 
Auvergne  sans  tache." 

Yorktown  village  of  to-day  contains  some  two  or  three 
score  houses — a  few  less  perhaps  than  it  did  at  the  time 
of  the  Revolution — a  number  of  them  being  of  the 
rustic  type  so  often  seen  along  English  byways.  The  old 
brick  custom-house  still  stands,  while  the  most  notable 
among  its  ancient  residences  is  the  handsome  house  that 
was  built  by  "Scotch  Tom"  Nelson  and   that,  at  the 


Principal  Street  in  Yorktown,  Showing  Monument 
Commemorating  the  Surrender 

336 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 


Governor  Nelson  s  Home 


time  of  the  siege,  was  the  home  of  Thomas  Nelson,  then 
governor  of  Virginia  and  commander  of  the  State  militia. 
When  the  American  artillery  began  to  bombard  the 
town  this  stanch  patriot  signalled  out  his  own  house  to 
the  gunners  as  an  excellent  target  for  their  aim.  Its  old 
brick  walls  still  bear  witness  to  the  accuracy  of  their 
marksmanship.  The  box  hedges  of  its  garden  have  now 
grown  so  tall  that  one  may  stand  within  their  shadow, 
and  by  its  doorway  there  is  a  laurel-tree  said  to  have 

337 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

been  planted  by  Lafayette.  When  I  last  visited  it  the 
house  was  being  carefully  "restored"  for  a  new  owner — 
a  gentleman  from  Illinois. 

Immediately  after  Cornwallis's  surrender  Congress 
resolved  that  a  marble  column  be  erected  at  Yorktown, 
"ornamented  with  emblems  of  the  alliance  between  the 
United  States  and  his  most  Christian  Majesty,  and  in- 
scribed with  a  succinct  narrative  of  the  surrender  of  Earl 
Cornwallis."  It  took  just  a  century  to  carry  this  decree 
into  effect,  for  the  monument  that  now  stands  upon  a  hill 
beyond  the  town — a  tall  marble  column  topped  with  a 
figure  of  Peace — was  not  dedicated  until  the  centennial 
celebration  of  the  surrender.  It  has  now  become  a  well- 
known  landmark,  visible  far  and  wide,  up  and  down  the 
river. 

Beyond  it,  by  following  a  road  that  passes  remains  of 
old  intrenchments — links  between  the  first  and  second 
parallels — you  reach  a  national  cemetery,  quiet  and 
peaceful,  the  simple,  numbered  headstones  of  "its  silent 
army"  stretching  in  long  perspectives  under  the  dappled 
shadows  of  pine-trees.  Near  one  of  its  walls,  but  just 
outside  it,  a  plain  obelisk,  entangled  in  wild  underbrush, 
marks  the  field  whereon  the  British  laid  down  their  arms. 

The  ceremony  was  an  imposing  one,  and  as  you  stand 
upon  this  historic  field  you  can  readily  call  it  to  mind. 

Along  the  right  side  of  the  Hampton  road  that  crosses 
the  little  plain  the  American  troops,  nine  thousand  in 
number,  were  drawn  up  in  line,  with  General  Washington 
upon  his  white  horse  at  their  head.    Along  the  left  side 

338 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 

were  the  seven  thousand  French  troops  under  the  com- 
mand of  the  Gomte  de  Rochambeau.  Each  line  was 
about  a  mile  in  length.  A  great  crowd,  gathered  from  all 
the  surrounding  country,  stood  silently  in  the  background 
expectantly  awaiting  the  appearance  of  Gornwallis's 
soldiers. 

The  British  troops  were  then  seen  issuing  from  their 
trenches,  their  colors  cased  as  stipulated  in  the  terms 
of  surrender,  their  drums  beating  a  British  march.  A 
French  chaplain,  the  Abbe  Robin,  tells  us  that 

"We  were  all  surprised  at  the  good  condition  of  the 
English  troops  as  well  as  their  cleanliness  of  dress.  To 
account  for  their  good  appearance,  Cornwallis  had  opened 
all  the  stores  (about  to  be  surrendered)  to  the  soldiers 
before  the  capitulation  took  place.  Each  had  a  complete 
new  suit,  but  all  their  finery  seemed  to  humble  them  the 
more,  when  contrasted  with  the  miserable  appearance  of 
the  Americans." 

All  looked  for  Cornwallis,  but  in  vain.  In  his  place 
Major-General  O'Hara  rode  up  to  General  Washington 
and  explained  his  commander's  absence  owing  to  an  in- 
disposition. He  was  referred  to  General  Lincoln,  to  whom 
he  tendered  Cornwallis's  sword.  Then  twenty-eight 
British  captains  advanced,  bearing  the  twenty-eight 
regimental  standards.  Opposite  them,  at  six  paces'  dis- 
tance, stood  a  like  number  of  American  sergeants.  Ensign 
Wilson,  the  youngest  commissioned  officer  in  the  Amer- 
ican army,  had  been  appointed  to  conduct  this  cere- 
mony, and  he  ordered  the  British  captains  to  advance 

339 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

two  paces  and  deliver  the  flags  to  the  sergeants.  Rut  the 
captains  hesitated,  unwilling  to  surrender  their  flags  to 
non-commissioned  officers.  Colonel  Hamilton,  who  was 
officer  of  the  day,  rode  up,  heard  their  grievance,  and 
ordered  each  in  turn  to  hand  his  furled  banner  to  Ensign 
Wilson,  who  handed  it  to  the  designated  sergeant.  Fi- 
nally the  soldiers  marched  up  and  laid  down  their  arms, 
some  throwing  them  angrily  upon  the  ground  as  if  to 
render  them  useless. 

Cornwallis's  absence  on  this  occasion  has  been  much 
criticised.  It  can  be  condoned,  however,  when  we  think 
of  all  he  had  been  through  and  when  we  consider  this, 
his  loyal  tribute  to  his  captors: 

"The  treatment,  in  general,  that  we  have  received 
from  the  enemy  since  our  surrender,  has  been  perfectly 
good  and  proper;  but  the  kindness  and  attention  that 
has  been  shown  us  by  the  French  officers  in  particular, 
their  delicate  sensibility  of  our  situation,  their  gener- 
ous and  pressing  offers  of  money,  both  public  and  private, 
to  any  amount,  has  really  gone  beyond  what  I  can  possi- 
bly describe,  and  will,  I  hope,  make  an  impression  on 
the  breast  of  every  Rritish  officer,  whenever  the  fortune 
of  war  should  put  any  of  them  in  our  power." 

The  surrender  at  Yorktown  virtually  put  an  end  to  the 
war.  There  was  desultory  fighting  long  after  it  but  no 
general  engagements.  Yet,  it  seems  to  me,  our  pilgrim- 
age would  be  incomplete  without  one  or  two  more  visits. 


340 


Ill 

HAMPTON  ROADS 

FROM  Yorktown  we  went  on  to  Old  Point  Comfort. 
Captain  John  Smith  is  said  to  have  given  the 
place  its  refreshing  name  upon  his  arrival  after 
his  long  and  tedious  A^oyage,  and  it  applies  just  as  well 
to-day  as  ever  it  did,  for  the  big  rambling  hotel  is  a  veri- 
table haven  of  refuge  for  the  weary  traveller,  who,  as  he 
sits  upon  its  broad  verandas  facing  the  wide  waters  of 
Hampton  Roads,  may  dream,  as  he  watches  the  leviathans 
of  our  modern  navy  in  the  offing,  grim  and  gray,  of  days 
gone  by  when  Howe's  two  hundred  sail  came  standing  in 
between  the  capes,  transporting  the  Rritish  army  on  its 
way  to  Philadelphia.  He  may  also,  in  imagination,  be- 
hold de  Grasse's  gallant  ships — the  proudest  fleet  that, 
up  to  that  time,  had  ever  sailed  American  waters — come 
grandly  into  the  Chesapeake  to  co-operate  with  Lafayette 
and  cut  Cornwallis  from  the  sea. 

And,  as  he  looks  upon  the  surrounding  shores,  he  may 
summon  many  other  memories  from  the  past.  Up  the 
James  River,  not  far  away,  stand  the  ruins  of  James- 
town, so  called  by  Captain  John  Smith  in  honor  of  his 
sovereign,  while  yonder  capes  that  guard  the  entrance  to 
the  Roads  were  named  for  the  royal  princes  Henry  and 
Charles,  and  the  nomenclature  of  all  the  adjacent  coun- 
ties— to   cite   them   at  random — Princess  Anne,   Isle  of 

341 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Wight,  Warwick,  Sussex,  Surrey,  Prince  George,  King 
William,  King  and  Queen,  Gloucester,  revives  memories 
of  the  days  of  royal  rule. 

Down  toward  the  south,  sheltered  on  the  Elizabeth 
River,  lies  old  Gosport  Navy  Yard,  now  become  one  of 
our  most  important  naval  stations.  In  busy  Norfolk 
opposite  stands  St.  Paul's,  on  the  site  of  a  "Chapel  of 
Ease"  built  in  1641.  The  present  "Rorough  Church"  is 
but  a  century  younger  and  still  bears  embedded  in  its 
wall  a  cannon-ball  fired  from  Lord  Dunmore's  ships 
when  he,  the  last  royal  governor  of  the  province,  bom- 
barded the  town  in  1776.  The  noble  overarching  trees 
that  shade  this  venerable  church,  its  ivy-covered  walls, 
its  fountain,  and  the  old  headstones  of  its  graveyard 
compose  a  veritable  picture  of  rustic  England  and  ar- 
rest every  passer-by  in  Church  Street. 

In  Hampton  still  stands  St.  John's,  with  tombs  about 
it  that  date  back  to  the  first  years  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  As  I  Avas  wandering  among  them  one  after- 
noon, reading  the  quaint  epitaphs,  an  elderly  man  ap- 
proached and,  pointing  to  one  of  them,  asked:  "Do 
you  see  anything  peculiar  about  that  inscription  ? "  At 
first  I  could  perceive  nothing  extraordinary  in  the  simple 
statement,  but,  upon  a  second  look,  I  noticed  the  date  of 
death,  November  31,  1770.  "And  a  queer  year  it  must 
have  been,"  chuckled  the  gray  old  man,  who  turned  out 
to  be  quite  a  character,  a  descendant  of  one  of  the  com- 
mittee that  purchased  the  land  upon  which  the  church 
was  built  in  1727. 

342 


THROUGH    VIRGINIA 

At  Fortress  Monroe,  in  Trophy  Circle,  are  gathered  a 
number  of  captured  cannon — one  taken  from  Rurgoyne 
at  Saratoga;  others  from  Cornwallis  at  York  town.  The 
old  fort  itself,  with  its  moated  walls  and  deep  embrasures, 
tells  of  a  day  also  gone  by,  and  recalls  the  epoch  of  another 
event  that  added  historic  lustre  to  Hampton  Roads— 
the  deadly  duel  between  the  Monitor  and  Merrimac. 

Even  to-day  these  waters  are  making  history,  for  when 
I  was  last  there  the  Eitel  Friedrich  and  the  Appam — sea 
rover,  captured  prize,  privateer — were  lying  in  the  harbor 
and  the  Deutschland,  first  merchant  submarine  to  cross 
the  Atlantic,  came  in  but  a  few  weeks  later;  while  the 
Rritish  cargo-boats,  entering  in  ballast  and  departing 
laden  above  the  water-line,  were  all  painted  battleship 
gray  to  elude  the  ever-watchful  periscopes. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  memories  that  linger  round 
Hampton  Roads.  Reveille  in  the  morning,  taps  at  eve- 
ning, parades  and  guard-mount,  with  the  military  balls 
on  Saturday  nights,  give  to  Old  Point  Comfort  a  martial 
atmosphere  rarely  found  to-day  in  this  our  peace-loving 
nation. 

When  our  visit  was  ended  we  boarded  one  of  the 
steamers  that  ply  up  Chesapeake  Ray  to  Raltimore  or 
Washington.  Next  morning,  very  early,  I  awoke  just  in 
time  to  see  Mount  Vernon  perched  high  upon  a  bluff 
above  me,  and  presently  our  friends  were  greeting  us  in 
Washington. 


343 


MOUNT  VERNON 


MOUNT  VERNON 

HAVING  followed,  as  I  had  set  out  to  do,  the 
principal  campaigns  of  the  Revolution  and 
visited  the  historic  sites  connected  with  them, 
I  now  was  ready  for  my  last  pilgrimage — to  the  home  of 
him  who  had  presided  over  this  great  drama,  its  chief 
actor,  the  man  by  whose  guiding  hand  the  American 
armies  had  finally  been  led  to  victory. 

On  the  4th  of  December,  1783,  Washington  had  bade 
farewell  to  his  officers  in  the  "Long  Room"  on  the  second 
floor  of  Fraunces'  Tavern,  that  still  stands  at  the  corner 
of  Broad  and  Pearl  Streets  in  New  York  City  (now  re- 
stored and  maintained  by  the  Sons  of  the  Revolution), 
and  had  gone  to  the  water-front,  crossed  in  a  barge  to 
New  Jersey,  and  proceeded  to  Annapolis,  where  he  re- 
signed his  commission  as  commander-in-chief  of  the 
American  army  before  Congress  there  assembled.  And 
by  the  following  Christmas  eve  he  had  returned  once 
more  to  his  beloved  Mount  Vernon,  a  plain  country 
gentleman,  to  take  up  his  old  life  again. 

So  my  especial  object  in  visiting  his  home  upon  the 
Potomac  on  this  occasion — which  was  not  my  first  visit, 
nor,  I  hope,  will  it  be  my  last — was  to  picture  this  Vir- 
ginia gentleman,  this  retired  general,  back  in  his  peace- 
ful home  during  the  years  that  followed  the  Revolution. 

347 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

We  proposed  to  spend  the  day  upon  our  trip.  So  in 
the  morning,  fairly  early,  with  two  congenial  friends  we 
started  out  from  Washington,  taking  our  luncheon  with 
us  in  the  motor.  On  the  way  we  made  a  stop  in  Alex- 
andria to  visit  Christ  Church,  so  intimately  connected 
with  his  devotions.  There  is  his  pew;  there  the  very 
communion-table  used  in  the  services  that  he  attended. 
Then,  driving  on  again,  we  crossed  the  causeway  over 
which  he  came  to  church  and  in  the  woods  beyond,  just 
before  reaching  Mount  Vernon  itself,  we  enjoyed  our 
picnic  lunch. 

The  first  view  of  the  house  that  you  obtain  from  this 
road  is  that  of  the  less-known  west  front — the  fagade  that 
faces  the  park  and  greensward,  a  fair  and  simple  design, 
full  of  dignity  and  quiet  repose. 

I  have  never  yet  seen  Mount  Vernon  but  I  have  in- 
stinctively felt  thankful  that  the  "Father  of  his  Country" 
should  have  bequeathed  it  such  a  heritage.  For  its  effect 
upon  the  beholder  is  most  agreeable,  no  matter  what  his 
standards  may  be.  It  is  truly  a  gentleman's  abode, 
neither  too  big  and  pompous  for  a  republic's  first  citizen, 
nor  yet  so  meek  and  lowly  as  to  be  unbefitting  a  nation's 
hero,  a  great  leader  of  men. 

And  its  grounds  are  so  beautiful — fair  Virginia  hill- 
slopes  set  out  with  stately  trees  and  ornamental  shrubs, 
with  the  Potomac  encircling  their  bases  in  its  wide  em- 
brace. As  I  stepped  upon  the  terrace  that  overlooks 
these  lawns  on  a  still  gray  day  in  May,  the  placid  waters 
of  the  river  were  unruffled  by  any  breeze  and  mirrored 

348 


MOUNT    VERNON 

the  white  sails  of  a  boat  or  two  that  lay  becalmed  upon 
them.  Beyond,  on  the  opposite  shore,  the  Maryland  hills 
rose  green  and  misty,  spotted  with  a  dwelling  here  and 
there,  but  quite  as  Washington  used  to  see  them  as  he 
sat  under  his  cool  high  portico. 


■ 


Washington's  Home  at  Mount  Vernon 


There,  in  the  shadow,  I  always  like  to  sit  and  dream 
after  the  day's  excursionists  have  departed  by  boat  and 
train  (and  that  is  why  I  planned  to  come  by  motor),  and, 
quite  alone,  to  recall  the  memories  of  the  house  and  its 
long-departed  occupants. 

I  like  to  forget  the  hero,  the  Washington  that  we  have 
seen  crossing  the  Delaware,  reining  up  his  horse  between 
the  lines  at  Princeton,  or  praying  in  the  snow  at  Valley 

349 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Forge,  and  to  remember  only  the  simple  country  gentle- 
man, as  he  depicts  himself  in  a  letter  written  to  Madame 
de  Lafayette  soon  after  the  close  of  the  war: 

"Freed  from  the  clangor  of  arms  and  the  bustle  of  a 
camp,  from  the  cares  of  public  employment  and  the  re- 
sponsibility of  office,  I  am  now  enjoying  domestic  ease 
under  the  shadow  of  my  own  vine  and  my  own  fig-tree; 
and  in  a  small  villa,  with  the  implements  of  husbandry 
and  lambkins  around  me,  I  expect  to  glide  gently  down 
the  stream  of  life,  till  I  am  entombed  in  the  mansion  of 
my  fathers. 

"Come,  then,  let  me  entreat  you  and  call  my  cottage 
your  own;  for  your  doors  do  not  open  to  you  with  more 
readiness  than  mine  would.  You  will  see  the  plain 
manner  in  which  we  live,  and  meet  with  rustic  civility; 
and  you  shall  taste  the  simplicity  of  rural  life.  It  will 
diversify  the  scene,  and  may  give  you  a  higher  relish  for 
the  gayeties  of  the  court  when  you  return  to  Versailles." 

This  is  the  Washington  of  Mount  Vernon,  as  he  in- 
tended himself  to  be.  But,  of  course,  his  dream  of  per- 
fect rural  felicity  could  not  come  true.  The  glamour  of 
his  past  achievements  hung  too  close  about  him,  and,  as 
the  spring  advanced  and  the  roads  were  freed  from  mud 
and  snow,  visitors  began  to  arrive  and  invade  his  privacy: 
old  soldiers,  officers,  members  of  the  Congress,  and  friends, 
among  whom  was  his  dear  Lafayette,  come  to  remain 
with  him  for  a  fortnight  in  the  little  room  up-stairs  that 
still  bears  his  name. 

After  the  summer  had  passed  the  great  French  sculptor, 
Houdon,  arrived  to  model  him  for  the  legislature  of  Vir- 

350 


MOUNT    VERNON 

ginia,  he  having  consented  to  make  the  long  voyage  from 
Paris  as  much  as  a  tribute  to  the  hero  as  to  fulfil  this 
commission,  for,  as  he  said  to  Jefferson,  who  invited  him: 
"It  would  be  the  glory  of  my  life  to  be  enabled  to  place 
my  name  upon  the  plinth  of  a  statue  representing  that 
good  and  great  man."  And  so  he  did  inscribe  himself 
upon  the  pedestal  of  the  masterpiece  that  he  created: 
"fait  par  Houdon,  citoyen  francais,  1788." 

In  his  journal  Washington  thus  notes  Iloudon's  arrival 
and  the  sittings  that  followed: 

"Oct.  2nd,  Sunday. — After  we  were  in  Bed  (about 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  evening)  Mr.  Houdon,  sent  from 
Paris  by  Doct.  Franklin  &  Mr.  Jefferson  to  take  my  Bust 
in  behalf  of  the  State  of  Virginia,  with  three  young  men 
assistants,  introduced  by  Mr.  Perin,  a  French  Gentle- 
man of  Alexandria, — arrived  here  by  water  from  the  lat- 
ter place.  .  .  . 

"7th9  Friday. — Sat  to-day,  as  I  did  yesterday,  to  Mr. 
Houdon,  for  my  Bust. 

"  10//z,  Monday. — Observed  the  process  for  preparing 
the  Plaister  of  Paris  &  mixing  of  it  according  to  Mr. 
Houdon.   .   .   . 

"19th,  Wednesday. — Mr.  Houdon,  having  finished  the 
business  which  brought  him  hither,  went  upon  Monday 
(17th)  with  his  People,  work,  and  implements  in  my 
Barge  to  Alexandria  to  take  Passage  in  the  Stage  for 
Philadelphia  next  morning." 

Thus  we  see  that  but  two  weeks  were  required  to  make 
the  studies  necessary  to  create  the  statue  that  now  stands 
under  the  dome  of  the  State  Capitol  at  Richmond — the 

351 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

finest  presentment  of  our  national  hero  that  we  possess 
and  one  of  the  masterpieces  of  modern  portrait  sculpture. 

It  has  the  look,  the  size,  and  the  serene  spirit  of  the 
man  whom  "nature,"  as  the  Comte  de  Moustier  expressed 
it  in  his  account  of  the  inauguration,  "had  distinguished 
from  all  others  by  his  appearance.  He  had  at  once  the 
soul,  the  look  and  the  figure  of  a  hero  .  .  .  and  in  his 
manners,  he  had  the  advantage  of  joining  dignity  to  great 
simplicity." 

Houdon  has  succeeded  in  giving  us  this  aspect  of  him, 
depicting  Washington  in  the  uniform  that  is  still  to  be 
seen  in  the  National  Museum  in  Washington — the  coat 
with  wide  facings  that  he  wore  when  he  resigned  his  com- 
mission. His  right  hand,  gloved,  rests  upon  a  walking- 
stick;  his  left  arm  upon  a  tall  group  of  objects  of  sym- 
bolic meaning:  a  plough,  fasces,  his  sword,  and  his  cloak 
thrown  over  the  whole.  These  are  the  only  trace  of 
symbolism.  The  remainder  is  frank  portraiture  without 
idealization  of  any  kind,  remarkably  convincing  and  life- 
like in  every  detail. 

At  Mount  Vernon  Washington,  in  his  dress,  threw 
aside  even  this  much  of  the  retired  commander-in-chief, 
riding  forth  in  the  morning,  after  his  breakfast  of  "In- 
dian cakes,  honey  and  coffee,"  attired,  as  Mr.  Custis 
describes  him,  "in  plain  drab  clothes,  a  broad-brimmed 
white  hat,  a  hickory  switch  in  his  hand  and  carrying  an 
umbrella  with  a  long  staff,  which  is  attached  to  his  sad- 
dle bow." 

He  personally  managed  his  own  large  estate,  putting 

352 


MOUNT    VERNON 

into  its  supervision  the  same  admirable  attention  to  de- 
tail that  he  bestowed  upon  all  his  work.  His  home  had 
run  down  greatly  during  his  long  absence  at  the  war  and 
he  proceeded  to  repair  it  and  build  the  additions  made 
necessary  by  his  broader  life.  He  endeavored  also  to 
retrieve  his  private  fortune,  so  impaired  by  his  service  in 
the  army,  for  which  he  would  accept  no  pay.  So  these 
first  few  years  of  retirement  became  profitable  as  well  as 
pleasurable  ones. 

His  daily  routine  of  life  was  most  methodical.  In  the 
morning  hours  he  visited  his  farms,  talking  to  and  over- 
seeing his  negroes  and  inspecting  his  fine  animals — his 
horses,  cattle,  sheep,  and  his  splendid  mules,  sixteen 
hands  high,  bred  from  a  union  of  his  own  coach  mares 
with  asses  sent  him  by  the  King  of  Spain.  He  was  very 
fond  of  his  gardens  and,  from  his  diary,  you  may  trace 
him  to  the  Mill  Swamp,  the  Dogue  Creek,  and  other 
localities  along  the  Potomac  in  quest  of  ash-trees,  crab- 
apples,  mulberries,  white  thorn,  and  other  specimens  to 
add  to  his  arboretum.  He  even  went  farther  afield  and 
brought  hemlocks  from  Occoquan  and  acorns  and  buck- 
eyes from  the  Monongahela;  while  Arthur  Young,  the 
agriculturist,  sent  him  seeds  from  England  and  Thomas 
Jefferson  shrubs  from  Monticello. 

The  grounds  at  Mount  Vernon  contain  many  trees 
that  he  set  out,  and  so  I  never  enter  the  formal  garden, 
with  its  old  box  hedges  prim  as  a  parterre  de  broderie, 
that  I  do  not  seem  to  see  him  walking  in  the  pathways 
or  talking  interestedly  to  the  gardeners. 

353 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

Before  three  o'clock  he  returned  to  the  house  for  the 
quiet  dinner  in  the  small  dining-room.  This  apartment, 
as  well  as  the  other  rooms  of  the  lower  floor,  still  vividly 
recalls  his  home  life. 

I  can  see  him  shut  in  his  panelled  library  on  rainy  days, 
among  his  books  and  papers,  using  the  very  inkstand 
that  is  closed  in  one  of  the  cases,  or  dictating  to  his  sec- 
retary Mr.  Tobias  Lear.  I  can  see  him  receiving  visitors 
in  the  "west  parlor"  with  its  French  furniture,  corner 
mantel,  and  general  air  of  ceremony.  I  can  see  him  on 
occasions  leading  his  guests  to  the  "banquet-hall,"  where 
it  was  his  custom,  at  these  larger  and  more  formal  dinners, 
to  seat  his  wife  at  the  head  of  the  table.  If  there  were 
other  ladies,  these  sat  about  her.  His  secretary  was 
placed  at  the  foot  of  the  table  to  make  himself  agreeable 
to  the  lesser  people  near  him.  Washington  seated  him- 
self at  the  middle  of  the  board  with  the  more  distinguished 
guests  about  him  at  either  hand  or  directly  opposite. 

"Nothing  could  exceed  the  order  with  which  his  table 
was  served.  Every  servant  knew  what  he  was  to  do  and 
did  it  in  the  most  quiet  and  yet  rapid  manner."  He  him- 
self was  frugal  in  his  appetites,  usually  refusing  the  more 
elaborate  dishes  provided  for  his  friends.  He  drank  a 
"mug  of  small  beer  or  cider"  and  a  glass  or  two  of  fine 
old  Madeira  with  his  favorite  toast,  "To  all  our  friends." 

In  the  evening,  at  candlelight,  he  read  the  news  or  lis- 
tened in  the  music-room  to  pretty  Nelly  Custis  as  she 
played  the  harpsichord  that  still  stands  by  the  door,  or, 
at  times,  accompanied  her  upon  the  flute  that  lies  upon  it. 

354 


MOUNT    VERNON 

The  precious  objects  displayed  in  cases  in  all  these 
rooms  recall  his  tastes  and  associations  as  well  as  the 
homage  of  his  distinguished  friends.  There  are  his  dress 
swords;  his  walking-stick  presented  by  his  ally  the  King 
of  France;  a  Sevres  clock  and  rose-jars  sent  him  by  Lafay- 
ette, and  another  unique  object  from  the  same  donor— 
the  great  iron  key,  token  of  despotism,  about  a  span  in 
length,  that  once  locked  the  main  portal  of  the  Bastille. 
Lafayette  accompanied  this  last  gift  with  a  letter  that 
concluded  as  follows: 

"Permit  me,  my  dear  general,  to  present  you  with  a 
picture  of  the  Bastille,  such  as  it  was  some  days  after 
I  had  ordered  its  demolition,  with  the  main  key  of  the 
fortress  of  despotism.  It  is  a  tribute  which  I  owe  as  a 
son  to  an  adopted  father — as  an  aide-de-camp  to  my 
general — as  a  missionary  of  liberty  to  its  patriarch." 

After  six  years  of  retirement  at  Mount  Vernon  Wash- 
ington's peaceful  life  was  broken  into  and  he  was  again 
summoned  to  serve  his  country  and  to  become  its  first 
President.  But,  the  eight  years  of  his  office  ended,  he 
returned  again  to  his  old  home  to  resume  his  quiet  life. 
He  wrote  at  this  time  to  his  former  secretary  of  war, 
James  McHenry: 

"I  might  tell  you  that  I  begin  my  diurnal  course  with 
the  sun;  that,  if  my  hirelings  are  not  in  their  places  at 
that  time,  I  send  them  messages  of  sorrow  for  their  in- 
disposition; that,  having  put  these  wheels  in  motion,  I 
examine  the  state  of  things  further;  that  the  more  they 

355 


REVOLUTIONARY  PILGRIMAGE 

are  probed,  the  deeper  I  find  the  wounds  which  my  build- 
ings have  sustained  by  an  absence  and  neglect  of  eight 
years ;  that  by  the  time  I  have  accomplished  these  matters, 
breakfast  (a  little  after  seven  o'clock)  is  ready;  that  this 
being  over,  I  mount  my  horse  and  ride  round  my  farms, 
which  employ  me  until  it  is  time  to  dress  for  dinner,  at 
which  I  rarely  miss  seeing  strange  faces — come,  they  say, 
out  of  respect  for  me.  Pray  would  not  the  word  curiosity 
answer  as  well?  ..." 

Washington  soon  tired  of  these  strangers'  visits,  and 
invited  his  favorite  nephew,  Lawrence  Lewis,  to  come  to 
live  with  him  at  Mount  Vernon  "to  ease  me  of  the  trouble 
of  entertaining  company,  particularly  of  nights,  as  it  is 
my  inclination  to  retire  (and,  unless  prevented  by  very 
particular  company,  I  always  do  retire)  either  to  bed  or 
to  my  study,  soon  after  candlelight." 

So  a  new  member  was  introduced  into  the  household 
and  his  coming  brought  a  romance.  Nelly  Custis,  now 
grown  to  womanhood,  was  the  youth  and  gayety  of  the 
house  and  the  ray  of  brightness  in  all  its  gatherings. 
Lawrence  Lewis  quickly  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  Washing- 
ton was  greatly  pleased  when  he  won  his  suit  in  spite  of 
numerous  rivals. 

The  young  people  were  married  in  the  early  days  of 
1799,  and  remained  on  at  Mount  Vernon.  The  year 
passed  happily  until  nearing  its  end. 

On  the  11th  of  December  Washington  noted  in  his 
diary  that  there  "was  a  large  circle  around  the  moon." 
The  next  day,  upon  his  morning  ride,  he  was  caught  in 
the  snow-storm  that  this  circle  presaged.     He  returned 

356 


MOUNT    VERNON 


as  usual  in  time  for  his  three-o'clock  dinner,  but  so  late 
that,  despite  protests  from  his  secretary,  he  sat  down  to 
the  table  in  his  damp  clothes. 

The  next  day  he  complained  of  a  sore  throat.  This 
grew  worse  on  the  day  following,  and,  early  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the    14th,  he 


^X^M. 


Room  in  Which  Washington  Died 


awoke  with  a  violent 
chill.  Mrs.  Washing- 
ton sent  for  Mr.  Lear, 
his  secretary,  who 
tells  us  that  when  he 
reached  the  bedcham- 
ber he  "found  the 
general  breathing 
with   difficulty,    and 

hardly  able  to  utter  a  word  intelligibly."  Doctor  Craik 
was  hastily  summoned,  then  Doctor  Brown,  and  finally 
Doctor  Dick.  All  realized  the  gravity  of  the  illness.  He 
sat  up  twice  during  the  day,  but  experienced  great  diffi- 
culty in  breathing.    Toward  evening  he  failed  rapidly. 

Mr.  Lear,  the  only  eye-witness  who  has  left  an  account 
of  Washington's  last  moments,  thus  describes  the  final 
scene : 


"About  ten  minutes  before  he  expired  (which  was  be- 
tween ten  and  eleven  o'clock)  his  breathing  became  easier. 
...  I  saw  his  countenance  change.  I  spoke  to  Doctor 
Craik,  who  sat  by  the  fire.  He  came  to  the  bedside  .  .  . 
and  put  his  hands  over  his  eyes,  and  he  expired  without  a 
struggle  or  a  sigh. 

357 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

''While  we  were  fixed  in  silent  grief,  Mrs.  Washington, 
who  was  sitting  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  asked  with  a  firm 
and  collected  voice,  'Is  he  gone?'  I  could  not  speak, 
but  held  up  my  hand,  as  a  signal  that  he  was  no  more. 
"Tis  well,'  said  she,  in  the  same  voice,  'I  shall  follow 
him;  I  have  no  more  trials  to  pass  through.' 

"At  the  time  of  his  decease,  Doctor  Craik  and  myself 
were  in  the  situation  before  mentioned.  Mrs.  Washing- 
ton was  sitting  near  the  foot  of  the  bed.  The  general's 
servant,  Christopher,  who  had  been  in  the  room  and 
standing  nearly  all  day,  stood  near  the  bedside.  Caroline, 
Molly  and  Charlotte  were  in  the  room,  standing  near 
the  door." 

Always,  as  I  look  through  the  door  into  that  south 
bedroom,  this  is  the  picture  that  I  see:  the  general  lying 
upon  the  bed  that  still  stands  between  the  two  windows; 
Martha  Washington  sitting  in  the  chair  near  its  foot; 
the  doctor,  Mr.  Lear,  and  the  old  negro  body-servant 
standing  by  the  bed ;  the  three  black  housemaids  huddled 
in  a  group  near  the  door.  After  his  death,  as  was  the 
custom,  this  bedroom  was  closed,  and  Martha  Washing- 
ton went  to  occupy  the  room  above  that  bears  her 
name. 

Washington's  body  was  brought  down-stairs  and  laid 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  later,  when  the  time  for  the 
funeral  approached,  was  placed  under  the  great  white 
portico  that  fronts  the  Potomac.  The  funeral  was  held 
on  Wednesday,  the  18th  of  December.  I  quote  from  an 
account,  written  in  the  taste  of  the  time,  in  the  Ulster 
County  Gazette,  published  a  few  days  later: 

358 


MOUNT    VERNON 

"In  the  long  and  lofty  Portico,  where  oft  the  Hero 
walked  in  all  his  glory,  now  lay  the  shrouded  corpse.  .  .  . 
On  the  ornament  at  the  head  of  the  coffin,  was  inscribed 
Surge  ad  Judicium — about  the  middle  of  the  coffin 
GLORIA  DEO— and  on  the  silver  plate, 

General 

George  Washington 

Departed  this  life,  on  the  14th  December 

1799,  JEt.  68. 

"Between  three  and  four  o'clock,  the  sound  of  artillery 
from  a  vessel  in  the  river,  firing  minute  guns,  awoke 
afresh  our  solemn  sorrow— the  corps  was  moved — a  band 
of  music  with  mournful  melody  melted  the  soul  in  all 
the  tenderness  of  woe.  The  procession  was  formed  and 
moved  on  in  the  following  order: 

Cavalry 

Infantry       [      with  arms  reversed 
Guard         J 
Music 
Clergy 

The  general's  horse  with  his  saddle, 
holsters  and  pistols. 
Cols.  c  Cols. 

Simms  r        Gilpin 

Ramsay       £        Mars  teller 

Payne  e        Little 

Mourners 
Masonic  Brethren 
Citizens 

"When  the  procession  had  arrived  at  the  bottom  of 
the  elevated  lawn,  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  where  the 

359 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

family  vault  is  placed,  the  cavalry  halted,  the  infantry 
marched  toward  the  Mount  and  formed  their  lines  .  .  . 
the  funeral  service  was  performed  .  .  .  and  three  dis- 
charges by  the  infantry,  the  cavalry  and  11  pieces  of 
artillery  which  lined  the  banks  of  the  Potomac  back  of 
the  Vault,  paid  the  last  tribute  to  the  entombed  Com- 
mander-in-Chief of  the  Armies  of  the  United  States  and 
to  the  departed  Hero." 

The  vault  here  mentioned  is  the  old  one — the  ancient 
family  vault  down  toward  the  river.  Washington's  body 
lay  within  it  for  thirty  years  and  then  was  moved  to  the 
newer  vault,  where  it  now  reposes — the  final  resting-place, 
built  according  to  his  wish  and  in  the  spot  that  he  had 
designated  in  a  clause  of  his  will.  Now  that  it  is  shaded 
by  trees  and  partially  overgrown  with  vines,  it  is  not  as 
unsightly  as  once  it  was;  for,  both  in  material  and  design, 
it  leaves  much  to  be  desired,  but  so  hallowed  are  its  mem- 
ories, so  august  the  presence  that  one  feels  within,  that 
all  else  is  forgotten  in  the  contemplation  of  the  simple 
sarcophagus  of  the  Father  of  his  Country,  the  man  who, 
by  his  ability  and  courage,  his  uprightness  and  self-sacri- 
fice, won  the  admiration  of  the  world. 


360 


WASHINGTON 


WASHINGTON 

ONLY  a  few  miles  from  Mount  Vernon  now 
spreads  the  great  "Federal  City"  that  Wash- 
ington founded  and  that  has  become  the  living 
embodiment  of  his  name — the  monument  he  builded  to 
himself  without  knowing  it;  the  enduring  evidence  of  his 
breadth  of  vision;  of  his  power  to  see,  in  a  wilderness 
dotted  with  the  tepees  of  the  Powhatan  Indians,  the  fair 
city  of  his  imagination. 

It  is  indeed  difficult  for  the  visitor  of  to-day  to  con- 
ceive that  this  splendid  city  was  a  pathless  forest  but  a 
little  more  than  a  century  ago  and  that  a  traveller* 
"after  riding  over  an  extensive  tract  of  level  country 
somewhat  resembling  an  English  heath"  and  traversing 
a  forest  "came  out  upon  a  large  spot  cleared  of  wood,  in 
the  center  of  which"  he  saw  a  building  "commenced  on 
an  extensive  scale" — the  Capitol. 

Washington,  from  the  very  inception  of  the  idea,  in- 
sisted, despite  the  jealousies  of  the  States,  the  intrigues 
of  Congress,  and  the  greed  of  landowners,  upon  carrying 
out  his  vast  plan  in  its  entirety  and  hewed  from  the  for- 
ests along  the  Potomac,  streets  that  "looked  like  broad 
avenues  in  a  park  bounded  on  each  side  by  thick  woods,  "t 
And  that  is  why  I  think  of  our  national  capital,  as  we  see 

*  Thomas  Twining,  writing  in  1796.  t  Francis  Baily. 

363 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

it  to-day — the  most  beautiful  city  in  our  country  and  the 
pride  of  the  nation — as  his  memorial. 

He  was  aided,  in  the  great  task  that  Congress  had  laid 
upon  him,  by  his  secretary  of  state,  Thomas  Jefferson, 
an  ardent  devotee  of  the  arts  and  a  student  of  architec- 
ture, as  the  State  Capitol  at  Richmond,  the  University  of 
Virginia,  and  his  own  handsome  home,  Monticello,  all 
designed  by  him,  still  testify.  A  man  of  broad  vision,  he 
caught  at  once  Washington's  great  conception  and  even 
went  so  far  as  to  draw  a  tentative  plan  of  the  proposed 
city  that  has  been  preserved  and,  in  many  respects,  re- 
sembles the  one  finally  adopted. 

But  these  two  executives  had  the  foresight  to  choose  an 
artist — a  man  of  genius  and  imagination—Pierre  Charles 
L'Enfant,  to  put  their  ideas  into  concrete  form,  and  to 
this  man  we  owe  the  admirable  plan  of  our  national 
capital.  Major  L'Enfant  was  a  Parisian,  son  of  a 
"painter  in  ordinary  to  the  King  in  his  Manufacture  of 
the  Gobelins."  Coming  to  America  in  the  fall  of  1777, 
he  enlisted  as  a  volunteer  in  the  American  army  and, 
early  in  the  following  year,  was  made  a  captain  of  en- 
gineers. He  was  six  feet  tall  and  possessed  a  finely  pro- 
portioned figure,  while  his  prominent  nose  betokened  that 
obstinacy  and  "untoward  disposition,"  as  Washington 
expressed  it,  that  was  his  final  undoing. 

Engaged  on  public  work  in  New  York  City  when  he 
heard  of  the  final  decision  of  Congress  regarding  the  new 
capital,  he  at  once  made  application  for  the  task  of  draw- 
ing up  a  suitable  plan,  for,  says  he: 

364 


WASHINGTON 

"No  nation,  perhaps,  has  ever  before  had  the  oppor- 
tunity offered  them  of  deliberately  deciding  on  the  spot 
where  their  capital  city  should  be  fixed,  or  of  combining 
every  necessary  consideration  in  the  choice  of  situation, 
and  although  the  means  now  within  the  power  of  the 
country  are  not  such  as  to  pursue  the  design  to  any  great 
extent,  it  will  be  obvious  that  the  plan  should  be  drawn 
on  such  a  scale  as  to  leave  room  for  the  aggrandizement 
and  embellishment  which  the  increase  of  the  wealth  of 
the  nation  will  permit  it  to  pursue  at  any  period,  however 
remote.  Viewing  the  matter  in  this  light,  I  am  fully 
sensible  of  the  extent  of  the  undertaking  and,  under  the 
hope  of  a  continuance  of  the  indulgence  you  have  hitherto 
honored  me  with,  I  now  presume  to  solicit  the  favor  of 
being  employed  in  this  business." 

His  offer  of  services  was  accepted,  and  after  making  a 
careful  survey  of  the  site,  L'Enfant  submitted  his  first 
report,  selecting  unerringly  "the  most  desirable  positions 
for  to  erect  the  Publique  Edifices,"  and  scorning  the 
regulation  squares — the  block  plan  of  Philadelphia  (and 
would  that  other  of  our  city  planners  had  followed  his 
example !)  as  too  tame  and  monotonous  to  suit  his  fer- 
vent fancy  for,  says  he,  with  unquestionable  truth: 

"It  is  not  the  regular  assemblage  of  houses  laid  out  in 
squares  and  forming  streets  all  parallel  and  uniform  that 
is  so  necessary.  .  .  .  Such  plans  indeed,  however  an- 
swerable they  may  appear  on  paper,  or  seducing  as  they 
may  be  on  the  first  aspect  to  the  eyes  of  some  people 
.  .  .  become  at  last  tiresome  and  insipid,  products  of 
some  cool  imagination,  wanting  a  sense  of  the  grand  and 

365 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

truly  beautiful,  [which  is]  only  to  be  attained  where  na- 
ture contributes  with  art  to  diversify  the  objects." 

So,  when  he  finally  perfected  his  plan,  he  made 

"the  distribution  regular  with  streets  at  right  angles, 
north-south  and  east-west,  but  afterwards  I  opened  others 
on  various  directions  as  avenues  to  and  from  every 
principal  place  ...  to  serve  as  do  main  veins  in  the 
animal  body  to  diffuse  life  through  smaller  vessels  in 
quickening  the  active  motion  of  the  heart." 

Such  were  the  practical  ideas  of  the  man  who  made 
Washington  unique  among  our  American  cities,  most  of 
which  lack  these  "main  veins"  that  would  be  such  an 
addition  to  their  life.  He  plotted  the  great  public  build- 
ings as  we  see  them  to-day:  the  Capitol  on  "Jenkin's 
Hill,"  "the  presidial  palace,"  as  he  called  the  White 
House  near  the  "three  grand  Departments  of  State"; 
and  a  great  equestrian  figure  of  Washington  (which  it 
was  hoped  Houdon  would  execute)  at  the  end  of  the  Mall, 
where  the  obelisk  now  stands. 

But,  like  many  a  genius,  he  was  erratic.  His  dreams 
went  farther  and  he  conceived  a  city  in  which  the  public 
edifices  should  first  be  erected  and  then  the  lots  sold  for 
residences  to  be  built  in  conformity  with  these  monu- 
ments, as  in  the  Place  Vendome  or  the  Place  de  FEtoile 
in  Paris.  It  may  be  imagined  how  such  ideas  were  re- 
ceived by  the  pioneers  of  that  day — poor  and  battling 
with  a  wilderness.     Troubles  with  the  commission  arose 

366 


WASHINGTON 

and  developed  into  a  deadly  quarrel  that  finally  ended  in 
his  being  deprived  of  his  work. 

Through  all  his  trials  Washington  remained  his  com- 
prehending friend,  understanding  and  approving  his 
dreams  and  his  big  ideas  that  were,  indeed,  too  vast  for 
his  day.     L'Enfant's  later  life  became  embittered  and 


Tomb  of  Major  L Enfant  at  Arlington 


toward  its  close  he  lived  as  a  dependent,  with  William 
Dudley  Digges  in  Maryland,  at  whose  house  he  died  and 
was  buried  in  the  family  plot.  But  in  1909  his  remains 
were  disinterred,  conveyed  under  military  escort  to  the 
rotunda  of  the  Capitol,  where  they  lay  in  state,  and  then 
taken  for  reburial  to  the  National  Cemetery  at  Arlington. 
There  they  now  lie  upon  the  spot  perhaps  where  he 
and  Washington  often  stood  to  talk  over  the  fair  city 

367 


REVOLUTIONARY    PILGRIMAGE 

of  their  dreams.  For,  from  Major  L'Enfant's  grave  on 
Arlington  Heights  you  obtain  one  of  the  finest  views  of 
Washington  City,  that  spreads  its  vast  parks,  its  shaded 
avenues,  its  noble  distances  along  the  Potomac,  the  pale 
shaft  of  the  monument,  simple,  upright  as  the  noble 
man  it  commemorates,  rising  quite  near  at  hand,  and 
the  Capitol  rearing  its  dome  beyond  "with  majestic 
aspect  over  the  Country  .  .  .  advantageously  seen  from 
twenty  miles,"  as  L'Enfant  himself  foresaw  it  would  be. 

Down  in  the  public  buildings  of  the  city  are  treasured 
some  of  the  most  precious  relics  of  our  national  hero 
that  we  possess.  In  the  National  Museum  is  kept  the 
uniform  to  which  I  have  already  alluded— the  one  he 
wore  when  he  resigned  his  commission  at  Annapolis. 
Here  are  also  his  camp  writing-desk;  his  shaving-case 
with  the  tarnished  mirror  that  reflected  his  face  each 
morning;  his  mess  chest,  but  twenty-two  inches  long  and 
fifteen  wide,  that  contained  all  his  cooking-apparatus; 
the  pole,  pegs,  and  part  of  the  canvas  of  his  campaign- 
tent.  How  simple  all  these  objects  are !  How  little  like 
the  camp  equipage  of  other  great  commanders  ! 

In  the  library  of  the  State  Department,  closed  in  a 
case,  lies  his  sword  of  battle,  heavier  and  less  showy  than 
those  at  Mount  Vernon — its  broad  blade,  slightly  curved, 
being  made  for  action  and  not  for  ornament.  The  hilt  is 
of  ivory,  of  a  pale-green  color,  wound  round  Avith  silver 
wire,  and  between  the  guards  there  is  an  embossed  trophy 
of  arms.  The  blade  is  incased  in  a  black  leather  scab- 
bard, engraved  with  the  name  of  its  maker — J.  Bailey, 

368 


WASHINGTON 

Fish  Kill,  which  town  was  one  of  the  principal  depots  of 
the  American  army. 

This  war  sword  was  one  of  the  four  that  he  bequeathed 
to  his  nephews,  with  the  injunction  that  they  should 
never  "unsheath  them  for  the  purpose  of  shedding  blood, 
except  it  be  in  self  defence,  or  in  the  defence  of  their 
country  and  its  rights;  and  in  the  latter  case  to  keep  them 
unsheathed,  and  to  prefer  falling  with  them  in  their  hands 
to  the  relinquishment  thereof." 

This  injunction  was  the  spirit  of  the  Revolution.  And 
it  should  be  our  spirit  to-day :  never  to  be  the  aggressor, 
but  to  defend  our  country,  our  liberty,  and  our  honor  to 
the  uttermost,  and  to  have  by  us,  "prepared,"  weapons 
in  prime  condition — an  army  and  navy  adequate  to  per- 
form this  duty. 


369 


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